Cold as Ice: a Sherlock fanfic
by Raven Arroway
Summary: Does Jim Moriarty have a heart? Find out in 'Cold as Ice'. Hunter Watson and I wrote our fanfics at the same time and consulted on details, so if you see familiar names then it's not plagiarism, it's all cleared with her. Think of my fanfic as... a parallel universe to Hunter's story. What? You haven't read 'Upside down- but in a good way' by Hunter yet? Go do it now, people! :D
1. Chapter 1

Eleanor tottered down the high street in the rain, wobbling unsteadily in heels that were far too big for her. She made a mental note never to let the girls take her out again. Ever since they had moved in to 221b, she had felt isolated and lonely. She didn't know why. She empathised with John in that respect- but sometimes sitting at home by herself was a good thing. The others had so much energy. Shopping at 7pm? Thanks, but no thanks. Unlike them, Eleanor was content to sit with Luna on her lap, people-watching from the window of the flat. She'd become great friends with Mrs Hudson, who had learned to leave her well alone when she was in a thinking mood. "You know, he used to do that too", Mrs Hudson commented one evening. "Sher... um, he didn't like anyone disturbing him when he needed time to think. His 'mind palace', he called it. How absurd! But then, he was always so unusual. He would have liked you, I think. But enough about him. I'll put the kettle on, shall I? We've got tea, coffee... oh dear, the milk's gone off. What a nuisance! I'll just pop down to the shops to get some more." Eleanor was quite content to let Mrs Hudson's fretting wash over her like a breaking wave.

Right now, she wished that she had brought some other shoes. Her trusty boots would never have let her down. Walking onwards, a crack in the pavement tripped her up, and she ended up sprawled on the kerb, her white Hollister top splashed with mud and rain and minus a high heel. She swore repeatedly at the pavement in frustration. How she longed for an armchair! Besides, Luna would be missing her. She always did when Eleanor left home, even for a few minutes. She meowed pitifully until Mrs Hudson shooed her out of the kitchen, and she'd sit by the window like her owner and watch until she came home. Eleanor tried to scramble up, but her purple sarong was caught under one of her heels, and it ripped, leaving a ribbon of fabric waving in the ever-increasing wind. She shivered and slumped by a wall, fumbling for her mobile to ring the others. When she had left the club, Rachel was practically asleep in John's arms while the others swayed with guys they hadn't even met before that night. She liked them, sure, but one night isn't enough to get to know someone. She had sat in the corner with the vodka and lime the girls had bought her. Only one guy had asked her to dance. He was older than her, probably mid-thirties, with unfathomable eyes and a knowing smile. He had asked politely in a soft Irish accent, "May I have the next dance?", but she really wasn't in the mood for dancing. She had smiled bitterly and replied, "No thanks. Don't you ever get bored? At the moment, my life is just like this. Staying alive." She traced a straight line in the air with her palm downwards. He laughed and grinned back, "Tell me about it." Turning away, he took a mocking bow and melted back into the crowd. Puzzled, she settled back into her chair. There was something about him... what she said would have made any guy back off instantly, which was the effect she was going for. But he was different. Almost like he understood.

Eleanor shook her head, clearing any thought of the club out of her mind. The rain was dripping from her hair, and the drowned rat look really wasn't doing much for her. Headlights lit up the road in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the blinding glare, she took a few hesitant steps towards the car. Maybe it was Katie or Chloe, finally sick of the dancing? The passenger door opened, and she stopped as she saw an unfamiliar silhouette. Damn. Why hadn't she brought some pepper spray? All sorts of creepy guys could be around at this time of night. She opened her mouth to scream, but then she recognised her rescuer. The guy from the club. To avoid looking like a startled goldfish, she coughed instead. He tutted sympathetically and exclaimed, "I'm not surprised you're coughing, it's freezing out here. Want a lift?" She thought for a bit. Getting home with half an hour to walk and one shoe down seemed pretty stupid, but then so did catching a lift with a total stranger. Thinking about it, being killed by an axe murderer was infinitely preferable than freezing to death. She shivered, "Promise you're not a total serial-killing psycho?" He really laughed at that. He had a nice laugh. Recovering, he mimed making a halo around his head, "Promise. But then again, if I was actually a 'total serial-killing psycho', would I tell you?" Feeling slightly uneasy, she allowed him to usher her into the car. With a gasp, she realised that it was an Aston Martin One-77. The second most expensive car in the world. This guy had some serious cash. It shouldn't even be on the road - with a top speed of 220 mph, he must either have a really good chauffeur, or be completely insane. "You like fast cars?" she asked apprehensively. He slid into the seat next to her and slipped on a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, even though it was still tipping it down. "Do you?" he whispered, and commanded his driver, "Give us some speed, Benson". The car sped off with a screech of brakes.

While Benson wrestled with the steering wheel, the man sat back in his seat and took a pack of chewing gum out of his top pocket. Eleanor noticed his designer suit. "Westwood?" she commented, and he nodded appraisingly. "You have a good eye for quality", he replied teasingly, and offered her the packet. She took some gratefully. "You know, I've got to stop calling you 'The Guy' in my head. It feels so weird. Do I have a name to go on? Usually that's the first thing you tell people." With a predatory grin, he answered "Yet the first time we met, you told me that life is a continuous line, and refused to dance. Not many people refuse me, you know." Blushing, she apologised hastily. "Sorry, my friends are always telling me to be less intense. But sometimes things just seem so...boring. They think I'm pessimistic." He looked surprised for a split second, as if caught off guard. The display of emotion faded back into a superior mask once more. "Pessimism is a virtue- it's another word for realism. Seeing things how they are in a world full of smoke and mirrors... now that takes skill. I once told a very old acquaintance something similar. Something about how the man with the key is king. I showed him. I almost did it. I almost _burned_ him." Eleanor shivered, but not because of the cold. She asked hesitantly, "How did you 'almost burn him'?" The Guy smiled as if remembering something fondly. "I showed him my point of view, and he showed me his. We realised that were the same, him and I. Like the two of us." He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. She squashed the stirring in her stomach, and pressed on. "Who was he? Your brother?" He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the seat. "Something like that..."

After a few seconds, she stared out of the window and watched London go by. Suddenly she was aware of him sitting up and offering her a hand. "The name is James." She took it and they shook hands. Now she knew one small thing about him. She moved as if to remove her hand from his grip, but he tilted it upwards and delicately sniffed her wrist. "Chanel No.5? I like it." Keeping his eyes on her face, he turned her hand so her palm was downwards and lightly brushed his lips across it. She reclaimed her hand quickly, facing away to avoid him seeing her face redden. She could sense him smiling behind her. She fought to regain control of her emotions – how could she let him get to her like this. James yawned lazily, and spoke again. "Did you eat at the club?" She wondered why he was asking, but guardedly replied with a no. He grinned and put on a posh English accent. "Then I would be delighted if you would do me the honour of becoming my guest at dinner." She opened her mouth to refuse politely, but before she could answer her stomach betrayed her with a growl. Embarrassed, she accepted his offer. The car changed direction and went in the direction of Marylebone. Despite her apprehension, she was intrigued as to where they would be going for dinner. Her question was soon answered when James escorted her out of the car to the entrance of the famous restaurant Le Gavroche, owned by Michel Roux Jr. She wasn't aware that she had gasped audibly until James laughed and offered her his arm. She nearly took it, until she realised that she was still wearing the dirty Hollister top and torn purple sarong. "I can't go in like this! They'll kick me out, or fine me, or something..." He nodded to Benson who was standing dutifully by the car. Benson walked around to the boot of the car, and produced a box with a designer label on. He gave it to James, who opened it with a flourish. For the second time that evening, she gasped aloud.

Nestled in the box was a stunning purple column dress. One-shouldered with an Armani label, the chiffon fabric pooled as she reverently took it out of the box. It had a split down the side and an empire waist embellished with beads, finishing with a sweep train. James took it from her and held it up beside her. "A perfect fit," he declared smugly and handed it back to her. She was still in awe of the amazing gown. "How did you know what size I am? And, more to the point, why did you have it in the boot of your car?" James held his hands out innocently, and darted behind her. He laid his hands on her shoulders and murmured in his lilting voice, "How could I resist? I saw you walking in the rain, I saw you falling over and swearing at the pavement, I saw you crying. I turned a corner and there you were. Telling Benson to drive as fast as he could, I stopped off at a designer store on the way to pick you up. I had been thinking about you all evening. Like I said, nobody refuses me... so I felt determined that you wouldn't refuse me at dinner. And your size...?" He ran his eyes over her appraisingly, "I had a pretty good idea of what I was looking for. The purple complements your eyes." She closed her eyes momentarily, feeling a little faint. James gestured towards the car. "If you don't want to get changed in the bathrooms, I suggest you try the car. I won't look... promise," he breathed. She opened the door and sat down, gathering her thoughts. Why was she letting him affect her so badly? She usually ignored guys altogether- the ones her age were all idiots. She should be finding him creepy. He's so much older than her, but then she'd always been into mature guys. Besides, she's mature for her age anyway. She started putting on the dress, puzzling it over in her head. Looking in the wing mirror, she could see that James was being true to his word. As far as she could see, anyway. The dress looked amazing, even on her. Politeness had prevented her from saying that she, Eleanor, never wore dresses. Or skirts, for that matter. Fortunately, the dress was long and disguised her legs. She had a thing about her legs. Also, she had worried that the startling red streak in her hair would clash with the purple fabric, but James was right. She looked... pretty good. Very good. Unusually good. Hearing her step out of the car again, James turned around and whistled in disbelief. "Honey, you would not believe the difference a new dress makes." He nodded to Benson again, who produced a pair of strappy silver diamante heels from somewhere in his voluminous overcoat. She put them on gratefully, massaging her tired feet. At least the heels were lower on this pair- her feet couldn't have taken much more of the previous ones, even without the missing heel. James escorted her into the restaurant, and the rest of the evening passed like a blur of happy conversation. They had so much in common- their taste in music (remarkably, the Bee Gees...), their idea of a great holiday and even their favourite dishes. Eleanor was aware of James buying two more drinks, and everything became even more hazy. She remembered laughing and seeing his face, and then everything spiralled into blackness.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead. You've been asleep for almost twelve hours". She woke up to a room with ornate gold wallpaper and a beautiful scarlet chaise longue. Startled, she gathered up the duvet around herself, and was relieved to find that she was still in the purple dress she was wearing at dinner. James walked into her field of vision and smirked, "Don't worry. I'm not the kind of guy to take advantage...although sometime you might allow me to try." She blushed hotly and replied, "We'll see. Where am I?" after ascertaining that they had to be somewhere in Covent Garden, because of the horizon she could see from the large window. "The Waldorf Hotel, The Strand. I've taken the liberty of informing your friends that you won't be joining them for breakfast." She narrowed her eyes at James, already in another designer suit. "How did you know where I live?" He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "I could tell you a lot of things. I could tell you that I've been watching you for a while. True, although not for the reason that you may think. I could tell you that I've had my people research you thoroughly. And I mean thoroughly" He winked at her, "And finally, I could tell you my full name. Let me introduce myself." He took another mocking bow, and Eleanor felt a deep-rooted sense of dread at what he was about to say. The designer clothing. The fast car. The lilting voice and deep, dark eyes. He extended his hand again and laughed. "My name is James. James Moriarty. But you can call me...Jim."


	2. Chapter 2

Jim Moriarty. Oh my God. Why had she let herself be so stupid! She had watched his trial on TV, she knew what he looked like. But why didn't she see? Had she let herself be taken in by the expensive gifts and the unexpected rescue? She sat down on the bed in despair, and he strolled over to sit beside her. "Eleanor, don't get me wrong. I know what I did was underhand and I shouldn't have deceived you. But it was so much easier to be someone else around you, because you would have run if you knew who I was. But you trusted James, didn't you? Why don't you trust me, Eleanor? ...Some people misunderstand me, but you and I are so alike. You could be truly great, because you're not like the others. You see things as they really are. I could make you a queen." As he talked, he paced around her like a wild animal. His dark eyes bored into her with every step. Overcome with anger and hurt, she screamed, "Shut up! Just shut up! Why the hell should I believe you? You kill people! No, even worse- you hire people to do it for you. You're a coward, Jim Moriarty. I felt like I was getting to know James. I could have fallen in... never mind. But you- you are nothing to me." She stopped, breathing heavily after her unexpected outburst. Jim stood up and she was aware of a noise on the periphery of her hearing. She turned her head, and realised that he was clapping slowly. "Oh, very admirable. Sherlock would be so proud. But you know, I think that you're deluding yourself. You are more like me than you realise, Eleanor. You're not an angel at all. Unlike Sherlock. In the end, he was so boring. I empathise with you, I really do." He resumed his shark-like circling around her.

"You need a diversion. All your life you've been searching for something -or someone - to alleviate the constant drone that is your existence. I could be that person. Let me help you. Let me in." As he finished, his voice lowered in volume until it was only a whisper. She tried to focus on the hate that she had for people like him- people who hide behind words. "You talk big", she replied, faking confidence. "Ah, but is it just talk? You can see what a person of my means can do. I'm flattered that you watched the trial, by the way- that was a particularly good day on my part." She croaked, "How did you know about that?" He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Weren't you listening, Eleanor dear? I told you that I had my people watching your flat- making sure that our old friend John isn't rediscovering his inner hero. However, I confess that I had seen you before last night. Your television had... stopped working, so I stepped in. It's funny how I could just walk into the building just by looking like I was meant to be there. Dear old Mrs Hudson didn't even question me when I said I needed access to your living room to fix it. I thought she was the only one home: I was mistaken. Once again, that doesn't usually happen to me." Eleanor remembered that day with a jolt.

She had been helping Mrs Hudson with the housework while Katie was out food shopping and Rachel, John and Chloe were having coffee downstairs at Speedy's. As usual, she didn't feel like going out, so she was busy dusting the skull on the mantelpiece. The eye sockets were a nightmare to clean. She had heard Mrs Hudson talking downstairs, but she carried on systematically spraying Pledge onto the wooden shelves full of books. A man in a boiler suit carrying a toolbox came up the stairs, accompanied by Mrs Hudson in full flow. She was talking about the merits of Frebreze compared to Glade, but he obviously wasn't listening. He looked startled, as if he hadn't expected to see anyone else in the house. Eleanor reluctantly put down the spray bottle and spoke guardedly, "Hi, I'm Eleanor. You're here to fix the TV, right?" The man nodded and gestured towards the living room. "In there?" She nodded too, and showed him what the problem was. He opened the back of the screen and found that a wire had been cut in two. "That's unusual. I didn't think we had mice." The man looked up from his toolbox. "What did you say?" She sighed and showed him the neat incision that had divided the wire in two. "Only a mouse could have done that, but there's no way it could have got inside the casing. It must have been deliberate. The others wouldn't cut through it, though. It's recent: look at the dust pattern. Someone must have got in yesterday or this morning." She smiled brightly at the repair man. "Anyway, you carry on."

The man looked at her with a bemused smile on his face, and repeated, "Dust pattern?" She sighed again and pointed to the break in the dust line. "I stay in and help Mrs Hudson with the cleaning, ergo I notice things. Nobody ever dusts behind the TV, and there's a clear area behind it where someone has obviously rested their elbow while tampering with the wires. Dust is eloquent. The question is… who did it? Anyway, I need BBC i-Player back- I've got to watch the rest of the trial. That Jim Moriarty guy." The repair man grinned and said "That's some quality TV you're watching. But not many people notice things like that from dust. You're unusual, aren't you? You're different… alone in the dark, crying out for anyone to listen, because you know things that other people can only guess at." She took a step back and icily replied "You don't even know me. I think you should go." The man laughed and said "The truth scares you, doesn't it? I'll go now, I've done all that I need to here. But I'll enjoy getting to know you." She tried to keep up with him as he briskly walked back to the front door, "But you haven't even fixed it yet!" He turned around and winked at her as he breezed out of the door. The next morning, she awoke to find a box containing a plasma screen TV neatly deposited at the foot of her bed.

"But…you couldn't. You wouldn't."Her horror and disgust showed clearly in her tone of voice. However, Jim Moriarty spoke slowly, his breath catching on her ear and making her shiver. "Don't presume to tell me what I can and cannot do. I am king, do you hear me?" Berating herself for provoking him, Eleanor spoke again. "Get used to it. I'm telling you to let me go, and tell my friends that I'm ok." He hummed as if thinking it over, but replied "Nah. I have already partially adhered to the second- I sent your friends a little note. If I remember it correctly, it went something like this: 'If you want to see your friend again, come to the alley off Baker Street. Quickly.' I do love composing letters like that. There's so much dramatic license to play with." She stood up and backed slowly into a corner. No potential weapons handy- unless you counted the complementary Bible on the bedside table. "What are you going to do to me? The whole 'cutting off a finger' thing is a bit dated, don't you think? Am I your hostage?" He tutted slowly. "You ask so many questions. I won't be cutting off any of your pretty fingers. You are not my hostage, you are my guest." The amused glimmer in his eyes hardened to ice. "Don't abuse my hospitality."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, what to do. Here we are, in this beautiful hotel room, chatting away. I suggest a little excursion to Baker Street, just to stretch our legs. Can't keep your friends waiting, can we?" he murmured conspiratorially. Eleanor tried to work out escape routes from the hotel room, but there were none. The place was a gilded cage. "How much do you know about my friends?" she demanded, to divert his intense gaze from her face. "Ah, your friends. I don't much care about them, to be perfectly honest. The tall one, Katie, is in training to become a biochemist. My people have informed me that she is a keen Judo enthusiast. Better keep an eye out for that one. The chatty one, Chloe, looked pretty harmless when I last saw her- I 'accidentally' bumped into her one morning to take a look at her books. An art student. She was pathetically grateful towards her mystery benefactor: no threat to me or my associates. The other girl..." he glanced down at a piece of paper he had produced from his pocket. "Rachel. Doctor in training. She wasted no time in getting into John's good books..." Jim looked sideways at her, and licked his lips suggestively. Before he knew what was going on, Eleanor had slapped him around the face so hard that his head snapped back painfully. Shocked, she retreated back to her corner, but snarled angrily, "Don't insult my friends. You're lucky to be getting away with nothing worse than injured pride, _Jim_." Rubbing his cheek ruefully, he threw back his head and laughed. "Fiercely loyal, aren't you? If anyone else had done that to me, I would have turned them into shoes. Lucky for you that I'm in a good mood. I've had people killed for lesser infractions. I once killed a man for spilling some brandy. Excellent vintage, that was. A shame to waste it. He was more upset about me spilling his blood, to be honest. On a cream carpet too. Anyway, enough dawdling. We have a deadline to meet." Pirouetting, he offered his hand to Eleanor, and she had no choice but to take it.

The alley seemed dark and ominous. Usually Eleanor scoffed at people who believed in superstitious things, but when Jim was around the air almost froze around him. Again, she shivered. Thoughts battled in her head for attention. On the one hand, the logical part of her brain was screaming at her to run, now, and get away from this psychopath. He'd killed before, and he'd sure as hell do it again. But then again, she had been getting on so well with James. Was James even a person, or was he just another alter-ego of Jim Moriarty? God, she'd even been entertaining... thoughts... about James. Maybe he was still in there? No, the logical part of her mind argued. You can't change him, nobody can. He's never going to be anyone other than who he wants to be, and if that's a serial-killing, mass-murdering criminal mastermind, then there's not a damn thing you can do about it. A few homeless people were huddled around an oil drum containing a small fire, but when they saw Jim, they retreated back into alcoves and doorways to escape his icy presence. Jim just strolled on down the alleyway like he was walking through a park. She yelled after him "What are you going to do? Are you going to let me go?" He swivelled on his heel and strode back towards her. "Do you seriously think that I would let you go? You are too good a prize to give up, I'm afraid."

She flinched as he reached up to touch her face with the back of his hand. Drawing slowly closer to her, he breathed quietly "Do you really want to go?" His regretful expression was so like that of the James she knew (all right, and loved) that she didn't resist when he gently kissed her on the lips. Stepping back a little bit, he raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Is this ok?' Silencing the voice in her head telling her to stop, she let him kiss her again, this time more roughly. She murmured against his lips, "I've got to go back, I've got to..." before succumbing completely to his embrace. Her friends picked that moment to turn the corner, and they gasped at what they saw. "Eleanor, what are you doing?" Rachel cried, as she saw her friend in the arms of a killer. Katie yelled "Get off her, you slimeball!" while Chloe just gaped at the scene. Rachel reached down and covered Chloe's eyes. Looking up at the girls, Jim Moriarty slowly removed his lips from Eleanor's and growled "Don't you girls realise that you're interrupting?" Eleanor staggered and began to fall until Katie caught her and set her down gently. "Did you get my note?" asked Jim teasingly. "I hoped you would. I didn't force your friend to come with me. She came here willingly. I'll let her leave with you, but be warned- she'll soon be back with me. She won't be able to resist." He leered at the girls and addressed Rachel. "How is dear John? Still grieving, I hope?" Chloe opened her mouth to tell Jim about the events of the previous evening from their perspective, but Rachel moved her hand from Chloe's eyes to her mouth and hissed, "You can't tell him. You'll put everyone in danger." She glared at Jim, who gave as good as he got. She told him matter-of-factly "John is doing fine. We're taking good care of him." He chuckled darkly and replied "Oh, I bet you are..." before disappearing into the darkness of the alleyway.

Chloe and Rachel rushed to comfort Eleanor, who was sobbing uncontrollably. "He was James, I thought I knew him and then I was so, so wrong! I could have changed him, I could have been happy, I could..." Nobody knew what she was saying, so they lifted her up and took her back to the flat. When Mrs Hudson saw the state she was in, she fretted "Oh my goodness, you look like you're in need of a bath, sweetheart. Come here." Giving Eleanor a hug, she bundled her off to the bathroom, where she had a long soak and then got changed. To their credit, the others put off questioning her about the compromising situation they had found her in, and the only question that was asked was by Chloe. "That's a beautiful dress. It's a shame that it's so creased- I'll see what Mrs Hudson can do about it. Ooh, an Armani label! You've been hiding something, Miss Joyce, and I'm going to go through your wardrobe tomorrow to see if you have any other designer dresses hiding in all that mess!" Katie made her a hot chocolate, and Rachel related the events of the evening to John without including the more embarrassing part of the tale, and reassured him that Eleanor would be fine with a little rest and sleep. Feeling better after her 'ordeal', as the others called it, Eleanor was getting into her pyjamas when she noticed an envelope by her bed. She examined it closely before carefully tearing it open. Expensive stationery. Slightly scented with lavender and bergamot. No writing on the front. Unfurling the piece of paper inside, she read the sentence written on it in flowing italic script with a growing sense of both excitement and dread.

'Sleep tight. James x'


	4. Chapter 4

The others were crowded around her bed while she slept. They had called a meeting to discuss what had happened. "I think that it was all Moriarty." Chloe loyally stood by her friend, not wanting to believe the worst of anyone. "I know, but we have to entertain the possibility that she's been manipulated somehow by him. Maybe she's got Stockholm Syndrome" Rachel mused thoughtfully, thinking of the condition where a hostage falls in love with their captor. "That happened in a James Bond film", Katie added helpfully. The other two looked at her sideways, wondering if she was serious. "The thing is, we need to work out if he was telling us the truth- and more importantly, if Eleanor has something to hide." Rachel felt guilty, talking about her friend when she wasn't there, but this was a serious issue. They had just received the best news they could ever have hoped for, but the unwelcome discovery that Moriarty was alive almost overtook their joy at the new development. Finally, Rachel had confessed her love for John, and they were officially a couple. But it was who had turned up to congratulate them that really made the event special.

Rachel and John were taking a walk through Regent's Park when a figure appeared from behind a tree and observed "I see you are happy together, then." Rachel laughed in disbelief and gripped John's hand when the figure's features became more distinct. His high cheekbones, Roman nose, dark curly locks and aristocratic air gave him away instantly. "Sherlock Holmes". Rachel extended her arm and they shook hands cordially, her expression one of wonder. "Sherlock Holmes..." John spoke in a low voice that barely disguised the anger in his greeting. "Sherlock bloody Holmes. You're supposed to be dead. You let me believe you were dead." Sherlock ran a hand through his tousled hair and sighed "I believe I owe you an apology, John." John opened and closed his mouth, took a deep breath and snarled "Apology? Yes, you do, Sherlock. You do. I saw counsellors, I took pills, because I thought I had lost my only friend in the world. And here you stand, bloody clueless about the things I've been through. You just...appear. Bloody hell. I'll kill you myself, you selfish...!" Rachel had to restrain John as he tried to attack Sherlock, who stepped back, alarmed. "Was this a bad time?" Sherlock enquired. Rachel made a face and sat John down on a bench, where he was quietly swearing to himself. "You could have told him, couldn't you. Would that be so much to ask? He believed you were dead for a whole year, while you've been swanning around, evaluating potential girlfriends?" She laughed disbelievingly. "I'm happy that you're alive, overjoyed even, and I'm sure John will be too, when he gets over the angry stage. But until you have the decency to pay him a visit at home, or even send him a letter, we will treat you as if you are still dead and buried. Do you understand?" Sherlock nodded silently, and with a parting glare, Rachel led John back home. Nothing had happened until the next morning, when a handwritten note in spidery writing slipped through the letterbox. It was a mobile phone number.

The girls studied the number again, and they nominated Katie for the call. They had agreed that Sherlock's advice was required on this sensitive situation, however angry John still was. He was secretly overjoyed that his friend was alive, but seeing counsellor after counsellor when Sherlock was actually alive somewhere hurt his sense of pride. The dialling tone sounded, and they were hoping that Eleanor wouldn't wake up. She still didn't know that Sherlock was alive, but until they were sure that she could be trusted with such important information, it had to be kept a secret. The only advantage they had over Moriarty and the press was that nobody knew Sherlock was still alive. If the story got out, the police would be called. They still talked to Lestrade occasionally, but his presence was too much of a reminder for John. They couldn't tell him either- with his position on the force, he could be arrested for withholding information. The phone was picked up after the first ring, "Is that you, John? Look, I'm sorry for what I said. You keep on reminding me about the emotion thing, but I haven't really got the hang of it..." Sherlock's brusque voice trailed off when he realised that John was still angry with him. "Who is it, then? The one I met yesterday, the tall blonde one or the arty one?" The girls giggled quietly. They still couldn't believe they were actually talking to Sherlock Holmes. "You're talking to Katie, actually. As a matter of fact, I am tall and blonde, but I prefer it when people use my name. We need your help, Sherlock." There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. An amused voice finally answered, "I don't do parties." The girls exchanged looks of disgust at each other. How could he be so patronising? "Moriarty is back. And he doesn't know you're alive." Another silence. Chloe signalled to Katie to tell Sherlock everything about the week's events so far. "...And basically, Moriarty told us that she'd be going back to him. Something about her not being able to resist? That's it really. We need to know what to do, Sherlock. For all we know, Eleanor could be in serious danger. She might not even realise who Moriarty is, but it's even worse for everyone if she does. What does she even see in him, anyway?" Sherlock answered in a puzzled voice "You tell me. I'm not..." The girls glanced at each other, and Katie answered back to him "Gay. Yes, we know. Do you have anything helpful to tell us?" Sherlock took a deep breath and said "No." Chloe snatched the phone from Katie and yelled "What do you mean, no? We need you, Sherlock!" His amused answer was not exactly what they wanted to hear, and Chloe put the phone down with a thump. "Ask your friend what happened to her. Tell me what she says. Don't tell her about me- it would compromise the security of this already precarious situation. Wait, no, tell her something fake that you've made up, and I'll inform my homeless network to keep an ear out to see if word of it is on the streets. If it is, your friend is certainly not to be trusted. I suggest killing her if you get the chance. If not, the way that she's going, she'll be dead by the end of the month."

Chloe broke the silence to say "He's more ...heartless than I expected." Rachel set the phone back in its charging station. "Don't get your hopes up when Sherlock is concerned. We'll try his idea, but if he ever patronises us like that again, then we are ignoring him. Agreed?" Everyone nodded unanimously. "And we are definitely not killing Eleanor. No matter what. There's got be a reason behind Moriarty's interest in her. He's not capable of love- it must be something else. Maybe he's just using her to get to us?" Katie shook her head and shifted from sitting down on the end of Eleanor's bed to standing, "I think that she's better than that. Surely she wouldn't sell us out to a man she hardly knows? And, I mean, he's a criminal genius. Not exactly great boyfriend material." The others stared at her. "What? Just saying..." Chloe turned around to look at Eleanor, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. "Shall we wake her up?" Rachel nodded silently, and Katie poked her gently in the arm. Eleanor just shifted slightly and muttered something unintelligible. Katie poked her a bit harder, and she batted her arm away and mumbled "Stop it, James..." Chloe asked the others "Who the hell is James?" and Rachel and Katie shrugged, obviously as clueless about it as their friend. Rachel took over, and shook Eleanor's shoulders slowly. "Wake up, Eleanor. There are Cheerios in it for you..." Instantly, her eyes opened and she grumbled "Where?" Katie replied "In the cupboard. You'll need to get up first though." Muttering to herself, Eleanor sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. "You know, I had the worst night ever -seriously weird dream. It had you guys in it. And... never mind. It was really strange." Katie nodded slowly and said "It may have been more real than you think. We need to talk to you about what happened last night..." Eleanor squirmed uncomfortably and evasively answered "What happened last night? I don't think anything happened. Nope. Can't remember. I'll just be going to get those Cheerios now..." Chloe caught her as she darted towards the door and hauled her back for questioning. With a sigh, Eleanor told them the truth. They left her alone after that. They were all taken aback by how close she had been to leaving with Moriarty. She couldn't love him. Could she?


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the week went by in a blur for Eleanor. The girls had given her a code- Rachel said that it unlocked a vault containing millions of pounds worth of uncut diamonds. Eleanor didn't understand why they would tell her something like that. She'd heard the saying that diamonds are a girl's best friend, but they were way too flashy for her. She felt so guilty- although she had told the others everything about her time with Jim Moriarty, she neglected to mention the continued correspondence that she received in the form of a letter every night. And the gifts. In the second letter she received, she read the piece of paper inside ('I'm waiting. James x') and left it on the bedside table, balancing it precariously on the spine of one of her Skulduggery Pleasant books. Predictably, it fell off and two pearl drop earrings rolled onto the carpet. She had stuffed them in a desk drawer angrily, vowing never to wear them. The next night, another note materialised, this time inside her jacket pocket. This one said 'Can't keep running forever.' Apprehensively, she tipped the envelope upside down into her palm, and a tiny pendant with a spider engraved on it landed there. She studied it carefully and appreciated the detail that had gone into making it, but it ended up in the drawer with the earrings. What was he playing at?

The next note disturbed her even further. It was even longer than the others, and contained another necklace. 'I can imagine this on you. Put it on. Now.' Watching warily for hidden cameras, she did so. She could almost feel Jim Moriarty's eyes on her. The necklace felt heavy- it was obviously incredibly valuable- and the many facets of the purple gem that hung on the golden chain glittered in the dim light from her bedside lamp. She felt stupid, worrying about words on a piece of paper. Surely he couldn't reach her here. Reaching up to undo the clasp again, she stopped when she heard her distinctive ringtone coming from the pocket of her jeans. Impatiently, she stopped fumbling with the chain and fished the phone out of her pocket. She unlocked it and saw that she had a new message. Strange. Probably from Vodafone. She pressed the 'open message' button and stared at the screen. 'Well done," the message read, "That wasn't too difficult, was it? I expect you to wear all of my gifts from now on. Don't tell anyone who they're from, or I'll be paying you a visit. I might anyway. I'm soooo changeable… James x'. She didn't sleep at all that night.

A loud knock on the door woke Chloe the next morning. Her room was closest to the hallway, so she grumpily got up and pulled on a tracksuit jumper. Not high fashion, she knew, but it was better than greeting the visitor in her cow-print pyjamas. With a yawn, she opened the door to see a tall figure in a distinctive trenchcoat and scarf. Sherlock Holmes. "I've always wondered- do you ever change your clothes? Or do you have, like, ten of those coats in your wardrobe?" Chloe commented, desperately trying to tidy her hair discreetly. Sherlock ignored the question and was about to step into the house until Chloe barred the way. "First of all, you can't just walk in here. Eleanor doesn't know you're alive. Secondly, it's not your flat anymore, so don't stroll in like you own the place. Thirdly, please answer my question!" She smiled sweetly at him, and he sighed. "I go to the Laundromat to wash the clothes. I'm renting a flat in Waterloo. Not the most luxurious place to live: the landlord is having an affair with the woman in the flat below, and she is trying to hide the fact that she has no inheritance, her mother was a waitress and no, she doesn't have an abusive father. He, in turn, is lying to her. He doesn't work for IBM, he has a criminal record and is most definitely not reformed, the jewellery that he gave her was fake: paste gems- you can tell from the way the light shines off them- or doesn't shine in this case. I am tired, cold, and bored. Now let me in." Chloe looked expectantly at him. "Please." He amended grudgingly, and she steered him into the front room. "Good thing Eleanor's out at the moment. She's shopping with Katie. It's weird- one minute she hates it and the next thing it's like she's studying for retail therapy exams or something." Sherlock stopped and stared deep into Chloe's eyes. "Is this out of character for her?" Chloe nodded and added "She never goes willingly. We always have to drag her with us. Only, this time she didn't complain. In fact, she thought of the idea in the first place..." Sherlock smiled grimly and said "She's going to meet him. In an effort to stop thinking about the events of last week, she's gone out for the first time since you saw the..." Chloe laughed at Sherlock's loss for words. "Snogging?" she offered. "Yes, that..." he replied, and took Chloe by the arm and dragged her out the door with him as he strode down Baker Street with a gleam in his eye. "She's going outside, out where she can be separated from other people, out where there are plenty of places for him to hide. He's playing a game of cat and mouse with her. Where were they going?" Chloe struggled to keep up, and answered breathlessly, "Regent Street. They took the tube as far as Piccadilly." He stopped abruptly and grabbed Chloe's shoulders. "I need to know what she looks like. Visualise." He started spinning her round and round, and she yelled "What are you doing?". He shouted back "I'm trying to stimulate your visual memory. Now tell me! What does she look like?"

"She's medium height. Um, brown hair. She dyed it once, but it made her look like an emo, so she let it grow out. Her words not mine..." Sherlock spun her faster, and she was getting really dizzy. All she could see were his eyes boring into her. "FOCUS ON THE DETAILS!" Chloe tried to glare at him as she whizzed past again. "OK! Um, she wears glasses. Black frames with patterns on the arms, quite sort of square...ish? Bluey-grey eyes, and she absolutely hates dresses and skirts. Pink is her enemy. Er...oh yeah, she has a red streak in her hair at the front, and it's quite long now, but it used to be short. She stands out in a crowd because of her weird old-fashioned dress sense. She has a hidden tattoo on the inside of her wrist, but she pretty much always wears long sleeves, even in summer. She wears a trenchcoat like you, but it's greyish. Ear piercings, likes black clothes. She'd be a goth if she could be bothered. She doesn't really sleep much, she reads like a mad thing, even the classics, and... that's it really..." He let her go and she reeled around the pavement, trying to get her balance back. "That's all I need for now. You were almost getting coherent towards the end." Sherlock walked on, oblivious to the dirty looks Chloe was throwing him behind his back.

The shops were all so... colourful. And nowhere near Eleanor's price range. Katie liked more of the clothes than she did, so she sighed along with her when they were too expensive, or too small, or too itchy. Shopping was difficult. She felt depressed until she saw a Waterstones across the road, and asked Katie if she could go and have a quick look at a book that she wanted. She left Katie in Fat Face, and practically skipped across the road. Once inside, she spent a good ten minutes just looking at a lot of the books, until she saw one that she liked with no price sticker on it. It was called 'The Psychology of Crime' by an author she had never seen before, Jamie Ray Storm. Maybe it could help her to understand why Jim Moriarty entered a life of crime in the first place? She hunted for a shop assistant so that she could find out if she had enough money to buy the book. Spotting a guy in the Waterstones uniform t-shirt sorting books on a stepladder, she asked "Excuse me? I was wondering if you could tell me how much this is?" She smiled at the man as he jumped down, but it froze on her face as he turned around. Jim Moriarty grinned and took the book from her unresisting hands. "I see you found my book. It's great, being a published author." She shook her head to clear it and snatched the book back, replying icily, "It's not by you. It's by Jamie Ray Storm. Read the cover, idiot." His friendly demeanour cracked a little bit as he corrected her, "I think you'll find that it is. Jamie Ray Storm is an anagram of James Moriarty."


	6. Chapter 6

"You had to add insult to injury by calling yourself James, didn't you?" Eleanor said bitterly. "What do you want from me now?" Jim Moriarty took off the staff badge ('My name is Jim. Can I help you with anything?') and put it in the pocket of his jeans. "I don't want anything. Well, that's a lie. I would very much like to take you out for dinner again, but I can see that you've been convinced of my villainous nature and will refuse me on moral grounds." She bent over to pick up the book that he had disdainfully dropped on the floor, and the necklace her gave her slipped out of her t-shirt to rest on her chest. He noticed and looked pleased to see her wearing it. "You didn't exactly give me much of a choice. Anyway, what are you doing, looking down my top?" He looked away, and she could swear that she saw a faint blush creep across his face. It soon returned to its usual pallor, however. "Shall we take a walk?"

Chloe and Sherlock raced down Regent Street, running into any shop that Chloe suggested Katie and Eleanor might have visited. They finally found Katie, who was pacing outside Waterstones. She did a double take when she saw Sherlock. "Hello Chloe...and Sherlock. I'm just waiting for Eleanor. She's been in there for ages. Maybe she went to get a coffee without me?" Chloe and Sherlock exchanged glances and went into the bookshop. It didn't take long for them to find a copy of 'The Psychology of Crime' on the floor, and Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. Chloe slumped against a shelf and murmured "He's got her. Again. Why didn't Katie stick with her?" Sherlock stood in the aisle, mentally going through all of the possible places to hide a hostage in London. There were too many to even consider. He watched Chloe's despair with the eye of a scientist until she noticed, and snapped "It's ok for you- you have no emotions." He looked hurt for a split second, and failed to understand the significance of the situation. "I can see that the thought of Moriarty being back might be upsetting, but..." Chloe turned her tear-stained face towards Sherlock and half-laughed, half-sobbed a reply "It's not about Moriarty, it's about Eleanor. She's stuck with a criminal genius who may or may not be trying to kill her, and we've let her down again." Sherlock tried to imagine feeling what Chloe described, but he felt nothing. Not even a flicker. "You don't feel anything. If someone loved you, the emotion would be too complicated for you to understand, or even appreciate the feelings they have for you." Sherlock stayed silent until something dawned on him. "What are you trying to say?" Chloe just stared at him with an expression that bordered on pity. "Nothing. Never mind."

Katie was lonely. She couldn't believe that Chloe had run past her with Sherlock, completely ignoring her. All they had wanted was information, and Chloe came out of the bookshop without him. "Did you find her?" she asked desperately, feeling guilty for letting Eleanor go by herself. Chloe shook her head and surreptitiously wiped away a tear from her cheek. "Couldn't find her. All that was left was a book. 'The Psychology of Crime' by Jamie Ray Storm?" Katie shrugged and they started walking back to the tube station. She noticed Chloe's red eyes and tear-stained face. "Why are you crying? Is this about Eleanor or…" Everyone knew about the crush Chloe had on Sherlock, ever since she saw his face in the newspaper. However, none of them had dreamed that they would ever meet him in person. "He's just so... clueless. How can he not know?" Katie put her arm around Chloe and hugged her tightly. "He's just made up differently to the rest of us, that's all. He'll realise what you mean to him, just give him some time. After all- you have just met in person." Feeling a little bit better, Chloe sniffed "I wish could be as clever as him, then he wouldn't talk down to me all the time." Katie replied sadly "I don't think it's possible."

The coffee was getting cold. Eleanor couldn't drink it- she felt too nauseous. Jim Moriarty kept staring at her like she was something to eat. He spoke first. "Do you remember when we first met?" She tried not to think about it as she replied "Not particularly. Which occasion were you referring to?" He at least had the decency to look slightly guilty as he poured some more coffee into his cup. "I have already told you how deeply sorry I am about our very first meeting at Baker Street- it was unintentional. I was referring to our meeting at the club. You expressed your need for a challenge in no uncertain terms." Eleanor blocked out the wonderful memory of the meal and their unexpected meeting, and tried to stay cool and dismissive. "I may have done. I only said it to make you go away. Unfortunately, it didn't work." He laughed, not bitterly or without emotion, but a really pleasant laugh. She felt the need to speak before she got too embarrassed to talk about what her heart was telling her. "I have a horrible feeling that I may have accidentally fallen in love with one of your personalities." He laughed again, and leaned over to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "I can be anyone you want to me to be" he replied, sensing that he had won a small victory. "That's not the point! You're avoiding the question. When I first saw you, the intriguing, debonair man in the designer suit, I fell for you. God, this is so embarrassing. Here I am, telling a criminal that I love him. Anyway, that was James No Last Name. Not Jim Moriarty. So unless you can magic him back, and even if you can I probably won't go with you, then I'm leaving you like you never existed." The fact that she could be so matter-of-fact about not seeing him again panicked him a bit. "Please, stay with me." She stood up and left her cold coffee on the table. "Until you show me that you can change, I can't see you anymore. It's too painful. I'll leave you with a final question. Are your feelings for me real?" Jim Moriarty watched her leave, knowing that he could stop her at any time. But he didn't. After she had left, he crushed the styrofoam cup angrily. He could force her to stay, lock her in one of his safe houses. But looking down at the squashed cup on the table, he saw his hopes lying there with it. In answer to the question he had refused to even consider before today, he whispered a single word that could quite possibly change the way he looked at the world forever. "Yes."


	7. Chapter 7

Eleanor arrived home at 6:00pm, much to the delight and confusion of the girls. "You didn't tell him about the diamonds?" Rachel asked guardedly, and Katie and Chloe listened closely to her response. "No, I didn't tell him anything. I've had enough of his games, and I told him that." Katie looked alarmed. "Was he angry?" Eleanor sighed and shook her head, still unravelling the tangled threads of emotion that lay there. "He was fine about it. He just let me leave." Chloe cheered and sang a little victory song "Moriarty let you go, Moriarty let you go... wait. He just let you go? No signing contracts in blood or anything?" Eleanor laughed and they bundled into a group hug, trying not to suffocate each other. "We have something to tell you. Something that we should have told you a while ago. We just figured..." Rachel started, and the mood in the room soured instantly. Eleanor frowned and asked "You just figured what?" All three of them looked embarrassed and Chloe spoke first, sounding sorry already. "Um, we sort of forgot to tell you, seeing as you were going through all that trouble with Moriarty. Um...we thought we'd wait until we were sure we could... trust you?" Eleanor's grin faded as she repeated "You what?" Katie took over and tried to placate her a bit, knowing that this was a bad time to provoke her. "We thought you had enough on your plate so we didn't tell you." Eleanor tried to control her tone of voice, but her irritation showed through. "Tell me now then. You can trust me. Wait- there were no diamonds, were there? You made it up to test me..." Chloe blurted out "My Sherlock's alive! I mean, um, Sherlock's alive." Eleanor smiled, and everyone let out a breath that they had been holding for a while. However, it wasn't a pleasant smile. "He's alive, and you thought I'd give away your secret. You thought I'd tell on you. Sell you out. So you fed me a lie and waited to see if word got out. Sherlock was in on it too, wasn't he?" She was seething with anger. Rachel whispered calmingly "We didn't think you'd tell Moriarty. We just thought we'd check. Just in case." Before they could protest, Eleanor had grabbed her grey trenchcoat along with Luna and walked out the door. She popped her head back through the open door to snap "His name is James."

Rachel sat on a park bench with John, who was reading a copy of the Evening Standard. "Can you believe this? Some guy has called the paper claiming to be Sherlock. He looks nothing like him! Anyone thinks that because they own a deerstalker and a magnifying glass, they can be the next great detective! Bloody stupid if you ask me." Rachel didn't respond, so he asked her in a concerned voice "What's wrong? Eleanor will come back, she's just a bit... frustrated." Rachel rested on John's shoulder and sighed "I just feel like it's my fault." John was taken aback by that simple statement, and took Rachel's hand as he said "Look at me. Come on. How is it your fault? It's Moriarty. If he hadn't have gotten involved again, everything would be fine." Rachel mumbled "But what if she tells Moriarty about Sherlock? She's angry- there's nothing she won't do. I miss her already. I bet she hates us." John stroked her hair gently and soothed "You're her best friends. Even if you have your differences, that's what makes everyone unique, and she knows that. She wouldn't be living with you if she hated you that much!" Rachel relented and kissed John softly. "Thanks, Dr. Watson!" She teased, and ran down the path laughing while trying to get away from John and his rolled up newspaper, which he brandished mercilessly. They spent a hilarious afternoon hiding behind shrubs and staging ambushes, but they agreed to a ceasefire and had a meal at the George pub down the road. Rachel closed her eyes and sipped her small glass of wine. This would have been a perfect day, but it was spoiled by the nagging worry in the back of her mind that Sherlock could be in danger. "Do you think she would? Tell Moriarty, I mean." She asked John over the bowl of crisps. "Nah. She's not that kind of person." He replied, but neither of them was convinced. They ate in silence.

Katie stared at the sculpture. Nope. There was absolutely nothing arty about it. It was a pile of sticks. No matter how you looked at it, its glorious un-artiness shone through. The Tate Modern was a place she went when she wanted to think, because of the sheer number of nonsensical pieces that you could find there. She could spend hours trying to figure them out. Perfect for mulling things over. She was worried about Eleanor, and Luna. All of them knew that Luna worried when Eleanor left the house for more than a day, so the fact that she took Luna meant she planned to be away for a while. But she hadn't packed any clothes. "This is quite possibly the best time I've ever spent at a gallery!" a voice concluded, stepping into Katie's field of vision. "Are you joking?" she replied without looking up. "The only reason I come here is to think about things and people-watch." The voice replied "I've been people-watching too. Well, person-watching really. There's only one work of art in this room, and it's definitely you." Katie sounded dismissive but was secretly flattered. "How long did it take you to come up with that one, or did the internet do it for you?" Looking up, her heart stopped as she saw the face of the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen. He had spiky brown hair that gave off a 'cool' vibe, but also made him look endearingly like a hedgehog. He had stunning blue eyes that complemented his elfin features, and he wore a shirt with rolled-up sleeves in a trendy 'just finished work' way. "It's one of mine, actually. Sorry if I offended you- I meant it as a compliment." His eyes twinkled with amusement as she realised that she could have put him off already. "It's fine, I was just thinking. About stuff. Often guys say things like that for a laugh, so it's great that you were serious. Not suggesting that you like me though. You may simply find me better looking than some of the portraits here. It's not difficult. But it's fine if... you do think that. Um..." She trailed off, losing her train of thought. He laughed good-naturedly and held out his hand. "I'm Nathaniel Farrier. I know the name's old fashioned, but people say it suits me. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

Katie shook his outstretched hand (it was warm) and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to sound more confident and failing towards the end of her sentence. "My name is Katie Eveleigh. Your name isn't old fashioned, and it does suit you. Did you know that Nathaniel means 'Gift of God?' Not like that has anything to do with how you look or anything..." His eyes caught hers and he smiled warmly. She blushed and apologised quietly, avoiding his gaze. However, when she looked up he was still smiling and he asked shyly "I was just heading to the café: I heard it does excellent pastries. I was wondering if you would accompany me?" Katie grinned and said "Sounds brilliant." The more they got to know each other, the more Katie felt at ease with him. He explained that he was a biomedical student too, and a part-time Judo instructor. They talked about both subjects until the staff began sweeping up and most people had left. He walked her home, and she stood awkwardly at the door. "So, I'll see you again?" she asked anxiously, and he boldly stepped closer to her and whispered in her ear "I'm counting on it." He kissed her on the cheek tenderly, and although she was a little disappointed with the brotherliness of the gesture, it held a promise of better things to come.


	8. Chapter 8

Chloe crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it in the general direction of the bin, where it landed in a heap of similarly discarded sheets. "Why don't my drawings do him justice?" she fretted, and started sketching again. She started with the cheekbones, lightly cross-hatching where the shadows would fall. Next, the narrow mouth, lips pressed together in irritation. Then the nose, the chin and the curly mop of dark hair. She stopped at the eyes, putting her pencil down and leaning back in her chair. Why did she always get stuck on the eyes? She just didn't know how to draw them accurately- looking into you for answers, narrowed in scepticism or even slightly curled up at the corners in amusement, his eyes still eluded her. Putting her sketchbook aside with a sigh, she drew another portrait of John. He was easy. His eyes were gentle and kind, with a merry sparkle in the corners. Rachel's were similar, with longer eyelashes framing them prettily. Katie's eyes were nice and warm, eyelids creasing a little when she squinted against the bright sunlight. Eleanor's were a bit different- bluey-grey irises showed when she widened her eyes in surprise, and darkened a little when she was irritated. Looking in the mirror, her own eyes showed someone who was sparky and full of energy. She was woken up from her daydream when Rachel shouted up to her "We need to get the balloons! Come on!" It was Katie's birthday, and she would be back from college soon.

Rachel gathered an armful of inflated balloons and scattered them around the room. She asked Chloe "Have you done the banner yet? She just texted me to say she'd be five minutes." Chloe handed her the long piece of paper, folded neatly. "Greg's here!" she squealed, and bounced off to answer the door. Rachel shook her head in mock despair. "You'd think it was your birthday, the amount of energy you have!" Greg Lestrade walked in, followed closely by Chloe. He handed Rachel a hastily wrapped present and apologised "Sorry, I'm not very good at wrapping things. Don't do much of it on the force." Mrs Hudson bustled in and took it from her and put it on the mantelpiece, reassuring Greg that it looked fine. "It's the thought that counts." She reminded him fondly. Molly came up after a minute, carrying a pink box with a ribbon around it. "Am I late?" she worried anxiously, wringing her hands. "You're just on time." Rachel showed her through to the lounge and sat her down with a glass of champagne. Henry Knight had cancelled last minute after a press conference in Bristol. He was now a lecturer on hallucinogenic gases at Oxford University, and had married his councillor two years ago. Katie rapped on the door with a free hand, shouting "Can someone get the door? My arms are full of textbooks!" She had been seeing Nathaniel for the past week almost every day, and she was really happy that day. She eventually managed to get it open herself, and the chorus of 'Happy Birthday' that greeted her brought a tear to her eye. "Guys, you shouldn't have!" she cried, addressing the assembled figures of Molly, Greg, Mrs Hudson, Rachel and Chloe. The party went on for hours, and it included a lesson for Mrs Hudson on the benefits of Wii Sports, and a tipsy game of Twister, where everyone fell over on the second turn. Waving goodbye to Molly and Greg, who wandered down the street toward the station still mumbling the words to 'Carameldansen', Katie jumped out of her skin when she saw an unexpected figure emerge from the shadows.

"Hi Katie," Nathaniel Farrier greeted her, and rushed forwards in alarm when she swayed and toppled over into his arms. She replied in a slurred voice "Your eyes are pretty." He laughed and thanked her, sitting down with her on the step to stop her from overbalancing again. "I don't think I'm very good with alcohol." Katie mumbled, and she snuggled into Nathaniel's shoulder. He put his arm around her and agreed "No, but you are adorable when you're tipsy." She giggled and asked "Really? I think you're adorable all the time." He shook his head and stood up, scooping Katie up with him and spinning her round until she squeaked "Stop it, Nathaniel! I'll throw up, seriously!" He stopped and looked down at her. "Aww, you've sobered up. I was starting to like the squiffy Katie!" They looked at each other for a few seconds, both thinking how nice the other looked. Simultaneously they both leaned to kiss and bumped noses, setting Katie off on another fit of giggles. They tried again, this time slower. The kiss lasted for several minutes until Katie broke away, gasping for air. Nathaniel kissed her forehead and laughed "Happy Birthday, Katie." He produced a little box from his pocket, and Katie's heart fluttered. Surely it couldn't be... opening the box, he revealed a ring set with a tiny heart-shaped diamond. She opened her mouth to protest that he had spent too much, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips as he explained "I know this is sudden, but I do believe that love at first sight can work. My parents were high-school sweethearts and they got married at nineteen, and they've been happily married ever since. So I figured...if it worked for them, then maybe it could work for us." He looked so scared of rejection that she flung her arms around him and repeated "Yesyesyesyesyes! Of course!" Nathaniel stroked her cheek and said tenderly "I thought you'd say no. Are you sure it's not too sudden? Other people would be a bit wary of commitment when they've known each other for a week." Katie shook her head vehemently and stopped in realisation of the short time they had been dating. "Oh my goodness, it feels like we've known each other forever!" He slipped the ring onto her finger and they sat there for a few minutes, holding hands and gazing into each others' eyes. They were soon interrupted by Rachel and Chloe, who danced downstairs and shouted "CONGRATULATIONS!" Nathaniel helped Katie up, and Katie asked good-naturedly "How did you know?" Rachel took Katie's hands and they skipped around in circles. "We were watching out the window, of course!" Chloe tugged on Katie's arm and asked "How do you breathe when you're kissing for that long?" They all laughed and went inside for another glass of champagne. They all gave a toast to the happy couple, and Katie proposed a toast as well. "To Eleanor and her safe return." She declared solemnly, and they repeated after her proposition "To her safe return."


	9. Chapter 9

Eleanor jogged up the steps to the dining room of the Ritz. She had called James as soon as she left the flat- she needed comfort, and he was the only one who was there for her. He set the meeting place, and gave her the room number for a master suite that allowed Luna in as well. She was in her element, sniffing the expensive furnishings and shedding hairs on the upholstery, so Eleanor had left her to it and went to meet him. She felt sorry for Luna, who had been left alone too much over the previous few weeks. She vowed never to leave her again. Luna would never lie to her. When she had walked into the reception area, the high chandelier and uniformed staff scared the life out of her. She had crept up to the desk in her weathered trenchcoat and jeans, where the receptionist looked down her nose and asked "Are you here about the lighting issue?" Eleanor glared at her and said "I have a booking for the master suite in room 417. Do you always talk to your guests like this?" The woman recoiled and hastily apologised, but Eleanor had already breezed down the corridor with the key. She walked up the stairs- she couldn't stand lifts, even posh ones with attendants in them. She unlocked the door and gasped in amazement. The room was beautiful. She saw an outfit laid out on the bed for her, and when she opened the wardrobe it was stuffed to bursting with clothes. She felt so relieved- she had been so angry that she had completely forgotten to pick up any clothes. She didn't even know where she was going to go. She had bought a coffee at a grotty drop-in and just sat there, fuming inwardly. Looking at her phone, she stumbled across the old message from James, and she had decided that even though the others hated him, he would understand her. He would help.

The dress that had been laid out on the bed for her to put on was even more magnificent than the one James had got her after the disastrous evening at the club. It was a beautiful dark navy colour in a sheer, flowing fabric that draped artfully as it was put on. It was floor length with an empire waist and embellished straps, and sported a daring slash down the side. It fit perfectly. No doubt Moriarty had liberated some of her clothes from the flat to find her exact size down to the millimetre. She admired his tenacity. Before getting changed, she took a quick bath, and was touched by the tender gesture of the scattered rose petals in the bath water that had already been run for her. She had also found a bouquet of lilies on the pillow. How he knew they were her favourites, she would probably never know. So she tucked one of them into the strap of her dress and found herself jogging up the steps to the dining hall, worrying that she was late. He was there, waiting for her. He sat in the one of the gilded chairs, slowly sipping a glass of red wine the colour of blood. He wore a Westwood dinner jacket and a black tie, obviously tailor-made for his slight frame. He looked sad and lonely until he saw her step into the room, when his face lit up and he stood to pull out a chair for her to sit in. She felt strangely pleased to see him too. Waiters descended upon them, bringing the starter straight away, which was a slice of tuna carpaccio with a dressed salad and caviar. She whispered "Which knife and fork do I start with?" He pointed to the ones furthest from the outside with a grin. They spent a long time just talking, and he sympathised with her about her friends. "I can understand that they are wary of my credentials, but if I wanted to harm you then I would have done so already. You have nothing to fear from me." Eleanor smiled and placed her hand on his. "I wouldn't have come to you if there was any doubt in my mind about your um... feelings." He clasped her hand tightly, and confessed "I think I love you." The complete confusion on his face was a sign that he had obviously never felt like this before. She laughed and said "That's encouraging. You know, I think I love you too." They went back down to the suite, and Eleanor fumbled with the key while listening to James talking about his past. They had discovered how similar they really were at dinner, and she was eager to hear more about his life before things took a wrong turn. The smile on her face died as she saw the obvious complication: there was only one bed.

It was massive. The frame was hung with red drapes with a velvety texture, and there were liberal doses of gold detailing on the towering bedposts. There was no shortage of cushions either. She swallowed hard and looked at James with a daunted expression. He smiled confidently, but was secretly terrified. Contrary to his suave image, he had never actually spent time with someone who he genuinely cared about before. Sure he wanted her, but the last thing he needed was to rush her and risk losing her again. He reminded himself that she was still young, but her world-weary attitude often made her seem more mature than her age. Remembering the stolen kiss he had shared with her in the alley, he reminisced about the way she had understood his need for comfort. Despite his wealth, he was not rich in friends. Unsurprising, really. But when he was with her, the loneliness abated for a short while. He never wanted to feel lonely again. He probed cautiously "...Your thoughts?" Eleanor looked at him and saw both the man she was impossibly in love with and the man that had caused so much suffering in the world. Part of her wanted to fling herself at him, and to hell with the consequences, but the sensible part of her asked her if now was really the right time. James gave her plenty of time to think. Patience was a virtue in his line of work. "Why don't you take another bath, relax a little?" he suggested. "You can mull it over. It's entirely your decision. I can always sleep on the sofa."She felt her worries melt away in the warm water. And there was free shower gel. Lavender and chamomile- perfect for reflection. Ok. Sort out priorities. "It's entirely your decision". James' voice echoed in her head, and she tried to block out Rachel's voice, telling her to stop now. "You'll give Sherlock away, or at the very least regret it for the rest of your life." She cautioned. Katie's voice told her to go for it. "You love the guy, don't you?" she asked. Chloe's voice was quieter and more contemplative. "Start off slowly. If you really love him, and he loves you, then he'll be considerate of your feelings. You can always ask him to stop if you feel stuff is going too far. I'll leave this one up to you."

James sat on the sofa, prepared to sleep there. He didn't blame Eleanor- his past was certainly off-putting, even if you didn't know the more disturbing details. He had been too demanding of her. He cursed himself for forgetting about the bed. He should have got two separate rooms, or at the very least a room with two beds. She'd think he was putting pressure on her to do something she didn't want to do. He sighed. He had hoped...well, it wouldn't happen now. Her face appeared in his mind, eyebrows raised sceptically and mouth pursed in disbelief. He loved that expression. He loved her. The novelty of that phrase would never wear off. The criminal community would see it as poetic justice- the man with no heart has fallen in love with one of the enemy. Define 'enemy', anyway. She was on her own side. Maybe it could be their side. They could sit and watch the world go by, they could do anything. Stealing a couple of cushions from the bed, he arranged them in the most comfortable way he could think of. He grimaced. This would be uncomfortable. He took off his dinner jacket and tried to see if it would cover him as a makeshift duvet. It didn't. Cursing quietly, he crumpled it up and added it to his pile of cushions. There was more Westwood where that came from. He busied himself searching through cupboards for any spare sheets or blankets that he could use instead.

Having finally made her decision, Eleanor stepped out of the bath carefully, trying not to slip over. She put on one of the complimentary bathrobes and stopped at the door as she realised that she had left the clean clothes in the living room. If she had been thinking of backing out, she sure as hell couldn't now. She slipped back into the scarily revealing dress that she had worn earlier, and opened the door cautiously. She saw James frantically hunting for a sheet for the half makeshift bed he had created on the sofa. She was touched by the way he thought so little of himself that he assumed she would refuse him. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, sitting down on the sofa with an audible thump, shocked. "I thought you wouldn't! I mean...even though I'm me? Your friends warned you against me, you know. Is this really the best idea?" She nodded shyly and sat down with him, asking anxiously "What about you?" He took her hand and looked into her eyes sincerely. "I would die for you." The conviction in his voice worried even him. She had changed him more than he realised. Slowly, without taking his gaze from her face, he carefully removed the lily from the strap of her dress. She put her hand on his heart and he clasped it there, silently reassuring her that everything would be ok. His pulse betrayed him- it sped up as he studied her from such close proximity. She wasn't traditionally pretty, but her fiery attitude showed in the red streak in her hair and the steely determination that usually made its home in her eyes. At the moment, it had been replaced by warmth and a little bit of uncertainty. He tore his gaze away as he strode towards the door, placing a sign on the handle that read 'Do Not Disturb.' Neither of them got much sleep that night.


	10. Chapter 10

Rachel opened the door and Sherlock walked straight through to the living room, asking irritably "Is she back yet?" Chloe poked her head around the door and replied "I'm here!" in a surprised voice, thinking that he meant her. He looked scornfully at her and talked to Rachel. "Not you, the other one. The one that went missing. Have you found her yet?" Rachel replied frostily, still a bit annoyed about his entry to the flat. "We thought we'd give Eleanor some time to cool off. We are worried about her though." Sherlock frowned and stood by the mantelpiece, picking up the skull and examining it carefully. "I don't care about her safe return, I care about Moriarty finding that I am still alive and targeting John. Can I keep this?" He asked, pointing to the skull in his hand. Rachel put her hands on her hips and said "No. John doesn't need you to care about him- he has me." Sherlock smirked and said "You can't do anything. You wouldn't last two minutes against a genius like Moriarty." He swivelled on his heel and pointed at Chloe. "You. Come with me. I have something to collect, and I need someone to carry my things." Chloe squeaked in surprise that he was addressing her at all, and jogged after him as he strode back through the door and onto the street, snatching a can of Katie's deodorant as he left. Chloe was secretly overjoyed that he let her come with him. She had wanted to spend more time with him since the day Eleanor disappeared, and although the circumstances were terrible, she had loved being with him on a case. She wondered why he had really brought her with him. Did he return her feelings? Or maybe she really was just there as someone to bounce ideas off, or even worse, as a coat rack.

Sherlock walked briskly off the tube, surreptitiously checking if the girl was still behind him. What was her name? Carly? No, Chloe, that was it. He didn't know why he had brought her with him. She was certainly no substitute for John. She had to run to catch up with him, for god's sake. There was something about her, he didn't know what. When he saw her, he felt like he had to make an effort to be polite. Well, more polite than usual. What was the point of politeness? Surely you should speak your mind so the other person knows exactly what you think of them. It saves confusion later on, assuming what you have to say doesn't offend them too much. People take offence so easily. He looked back at her again. Second symptom- the stomach churning. Maybe he should see a doctor? Molly would probably know what was going on, although there was probably a reason that she dealt with dead patients. Maybe Chloe carried an infectious disease? The possibility was worth looking into. He spotted the shop he wanted, and pushed the door open sharply. The owner looked up and grinned toothily, his gold filling glinting in the artificial light. "Sherlock, me old mate! How's things up Detective Alley?" he laughed, wheezing unhealthily. Sherlock's lip curled in distaste as a blast of fetid air hit him full in the face. Heart disease, late stages. On medication but not taking it regularly- morbidly obese. Probably the cause. Had a wife- he left her. He corrected himself as he saw the wedding ring still on his finger. She left him. Losing money, a desperate man, branching out a little into petty crime. Perfect. "Chloe, meet Ned Tooley. Don't shake his hand- he'll pickpocket you." The older man leered at Chloe and she also got a whiff of 'Eau de Ned'. He winked at her sleazily and wheedled "You know where to come when you get tired of the Great Detective..." She stepped away from him partly in disgust and partly because she was almost choking from the odour that seeped off him. Sherlock took the can of deodorant he had stolen earlier out of his pocket and sprayed it liberally over Ned Tooley, who coughed in great hacking bursts until the mist dissipated. "What the blinkin' 'ell was that for?" he glared sullenly at Sherlock, who ignored him completely and opened the door to the back room and started rummaging around in some crates. "He could take a while, Mr Tooley." Chloe smiled apologetically, trying to get as far away from Ned as possible to escape from the smell and his predatory smile.

Chloe had followed Sherlock into the shady-looking butcher's shop, trying to squash the feeling that something really bad was going to happen. She had no idea what Sherlock was looking for, but it probably wasn't going to be pleasant. The man at the counter, Ned Tooley, was absolutely foul. He reeked of old cigarettes and alcohol, and a splashing of body odour into the bargain. He wasn't happy about her edging away from him. He said slowly "Call me Ned." She replied with a note of caution in her voice, "Ok...he could take a while, Ned." The fat shopkeeper heaved his bulk out of the chair, which creaked ominously. He mused "You know, if your pal Sherlock is going to be a while, then we could spend some time... getting to know each other." Showing his gold tooth again, he locked the door of the shop, putting his chubby finger on his lips to warn her that any noise would make things worse. However, she opened her mouth to scream and he was forced to put his hand over it, almost suffocating her with his meaty palm. He growled "Come 'ere..." and was looming closer until she bit his hand and kicked him in the shin while screaming "Sherlock!" Ned got up from the floor, wiping his bloody hand on his food-stained jeans. "A feisty one, are you?" he muttered. "I'll soon tame you, girl!" Chloe had the advantage of speed and a few rudimentary judo moves Katie had tried to teach her, but Ned was clearly angry and would pin her down easily if he could get to her. She dodged his first few clumsy attempts at grabbing her, but he punched her in the stomach so hard that she hit the wall and sunk down to the floor, winded. She retched, trying to get her breath back from the impact. Ned had reached into a drawer below the counter and produced a delicate scalpel-like instrument.

"You know," he commented conversationally, "I don't often get a chance to use this on people who are alive, but you need to be taught a lesson. Did Sherlock ever tell you where he gets his supplies of body parts to dissect? I suppose he won't get the chance now, but who knows, maybe he'll be dissecting one of your hands in the near future...I'll just put you behind the counter and tell him that you left. Shame really. You could have just co-operated..." He tied her arm down and mused "You won't be needing your fingers, will you? I'll just give you a little something to make sure nobody steals you. You'd be surprised how many other specialist butchers there are in London these days. Each of us has their own mark." He drew the scalpel across the skin on the top of her arm and she gasped in pain as the cold steel bit into her. "There we go! You have my initials on your arm, you lucky thing. Now for the fingers...I'll make you scream, girl!" Bringing out a meat cleaver, he raised it high and Chloe screwed her eyes shut in anticipation of the thud and the agonising pain that would follow, but instead she heard a gunshot, and opened her eyes when she discovered that there was no pain. Instead, Ned Tooley gurgled and keeled over, scrabbling at a bullet hole in his chest. After thrashing for a few seconds he lay still, his eyes staring into nothing. Sherlock stepped out of the cellar holding a smoking Browning 9mm pistol and murmuring "How inconvenient. I suppose I'll have to find another supplier. However, he'll probably smell worse now." He carried a small coolbox under his arm, and added "At least I don't have to pay him." Chloe started sobbing as she realised how close she had come to a grisly end at the hands of the 'specialist butcher'. Sherlock noticed and sighed. "Please, don't do the crying thing. It's irritating and soggy." He showed unusual sympathy however and handed her a tissue to cover the 'NT' scar that was bleeding freely. She asked shakily "Why did you kill him?" Sherlock contemplated various answers but settled with the standard one. "He was going to kill you." Chloe looked grateful and grimaced at the tissue on her arm that had now turned completely red. He supplied her with another tissue, which she took thankfully. "Can I say thank you?" she asked shyly, and Sherlock was confused by the sentiment in the statement. He replied "You just did, didn't you?" Chloe decided to be bold and kissed him lightly on the lips. Sherlock touched his lips experimentally and asked "Why did you do that?" Chloe didn't answer, but she was overjoyed that he hadn't recoiled or insulted her. They left the body of Ned Tooley in the freezer with the remains of some of his unfortunate victims.

Sherlock walked away from Baker Street after dropping Chloe back with Katie, Rachel and Mrs Hudson. She had scolded him for letting Chloe get hurt, but they were all grateful for his timely intervention. Chloe had kissed him again when he left. Now he was confused. The stomach churning sensation still continued when he was around her, and now he had chest pains as well. This was definitely a medical problem. He sighed and touched his lips again before darting down a side road and disappearing into the shadows.


	11. Chapter 11

James stretched as he woke up and looked down at the sleeping Eleanor. She looked so vulnerable. His movement had caused her to stir a bit, and she snuggled into his shoulder before falling back asleep. He couldn't believe that she was there next to him. He had been toying with the concept of creeping away in the morning and escaping the inevitable complications from the night (she would probably be in denial), but he stopped that idea in its tracks. He would be there when she woke up, so she could see once and for all that he wouldn't leave her, even if she did regret the night they had spent together. He grinned to himself- he had absolutely no regrets whatsoever. Without warning, Luna leaped on the bed and knocked the air out of him. She mrowfed grumpily at him and washed her paws while sitting on his stomach. He winced as she dug her claws in, and hoped that Eleanor would wake up soon so that she could call Luna off.

Rachel and Katie had organised a double-date with John and Nathaniel at the local Italian restaurant, Strada. John looked forward to getting to know Nathaniel, as he was quite protective of the girls so prospective boyfriends were cross-examined thoroughly. In Nathaniel's case, John had no choice but to like him, given the sudden engagement. They discussed the wedding plans over dinner- Katie and Nathaniel were getting married sooner rather than later, as they didn't want to wait too long. The 'meet the parents' session went well: Nathaniel's parents were welcoming and completely understood their reasons for liking each other -they had been through similar themselves. Katie's parents were a bit sceptical at first, but they loved Nathaniel to bits. They were worried it might end badly, but they supported Katie's decision wholeheartedly, and both sets of parents got along famously. Rachel and John were still going strong, and loved having nights in watching reruns of old TV shows. The problem with planning Katie and Nathaniel's wedding was that they didn't know where to factor Eleanor in. Would she even be there? They put her on the guest list anyway, just to make sure. Sherlock wasn't coming- he had a meeting with a gang leader to negotiate territories. He apologised, but explained "I'm not really big on weddings. The vows are invariably broken at some point during the relationship, and the bride and groom feel obliged to invite estranged relatives they would normally never talk to. In turn, these estranged relatives feel guilty about not keeping in contact and buy them utterly useless presents like toasters and whisks. Who gives a whisk as a present? I'd rather have a pathology manual to be perfectly honest, but each to their own." Nathaniel smiled politely and bore the onslaught of words, as they had all warned him about Sherlock's lack of diplomacy. He was perfectly happy to do anything, as long as he was with Katie. They sent an invitation to Eleanor anyway via a picture text, but none of them held out much hope that she would come. She hadn't replied to any of their texts before.

Chloe had perfected the eyes. They stared out at her from the page as she touched the cheek of the drawing. If only he could understand how she felt. He knew about love, and she knew he had felt it once with that horrible Irene Adler woman. John had reassured her that it was purely platonic after their first meeting, that Sherlock just admired her talents. Chloe had muttered sullenly "The only reason he found out the code to that safe was by 'admiring her talents'." John had laughed at that so hard that he fell off his chair and had to be helped up by Rachel. The question that ran round in circles in her head was this: did Sherlock return her feelings? Or was she just another interesting test subject to study? She folded up the sketch and put it in her bag. Sherlock had requested her presence again at a murder scene. He had texted her (she didn't know how he got her number) saying "262 North Gower Street. Police haven't arrived yet. Body. Coming?" She texted back saying "Dangerous? Finger-chopping butchers anywhere?" A reply arrived immediately "Possibility." She flagged down a taxi immediately and told the driver "262 North Gower Street please. And quickly." She met Sherlock in a side lane off of the main street. He was crouched over the body of a woman, sniffing the contents of her handbag. He sighed and stood up. "It was made to look like a drug overdose, but she was murdered. There are traces of pressure marks on her neck, nose and mouth. One of the assailants held her by the neck while the other force-fed her some tablets then held her nose and mouth to make her swallow. My guess is that she got on the wrong side of a drug baron. She has traces of cocaine in her handbag, but she wasn't a drug user herself- no outward signs of drug dependence or use. She had debts to pay off- the clothes are good quality but they've been repaired several times, suggesting that she had to keep up appearances because they were the only smart clothes she owned. Full-time employment then. Needed the money, drug dealing held the answer. Probably put into contact with the dealers through work, and her job meant that she could go most places with a full suitcase and not be questioned. Maybe she gave herself away, or she got tired of dealing- whatever the case, she was seen as a potential threat and disposed of quietly. No shortage of drug users in London- another drug-related death on the streets isn't news to the police. Nice and neat, but pitifully obvious. The assailants were wearing gloves, so no DNA evidence, but it doesn't matter. You catch one group, then more pour into the gap. Catching them would be impossible."

Chloe was taken aback by the speed of his deduction. Surely it took more than a handbag to discover that the woman was a drug dealer? "How can smelling her handbag tell you that she dealt drugs?" she asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes in despair and took Chloe's handbag as an example. It wasn't really a handbag- more like a satchel. It was made of different coloured threads of wool woven together into a rainbow pattern. He tipped it upside down and the contents fell out into a muddy puddle. "Oh my god. You did not just do that..." Chloe crouched down and tried to rescue her iPod and phone before they drowned. "What was that for?" she demanded angrily. Sherlock replied "I was simply trying to prove the point that there is so much stuff in women's handbags. It was child's play to find a sachet of white powder in one of those pointless little pocket things. It could have been sugar- unlikely- so I sniffed it. If not sugar then cocaine." Sherlock had unfolded the sketch that he had taken from her bag and looked at it before putting it in his pocket as Chloe was still drying off her phone and glaring. She commented sarcastically "So I suppose you're an expert on drugs then, are you?" Sherlock looked puzzled, as if the answer was obvious. Handing Chloe back her bag, he said "Yes." She was shocked and stuffed her belongings back in the bag before he had the chance to ruin them again. "Oh. Ok. So...you take drugs?" Sherlock had begun striding back up to the main road and shouted back to her. "No, of course not... John hid my supply in case of another police investigation."

Eleanor woke up to the sound of Luna purring. She had finally settled down and was asleep on James' stomach, preventing him from moving. He whispered "Can you please call her off? She's been like this for three hours!" Eleanor laughed and picked up Luna, who hissed half-heartedly until Eleanor gave her a tickle behind the ears, when she started purring again. "Are all cats that affectionate, or is it just Luna?" James asked, tentatively giving Luna a scratch under the chin. She purred even louder, and Eleanor replied "I think she likes you in particular. She doesn't usually make friends easily. Probably because she has a habit of trying to trip people up when they're at the top of the stairs..." Eleanor stretched for a minute until she remembered exactly why she was lying next to James. She went bright red and asked "Did you sleep ok?" James put his arm around her and she sneezed as Luna's tail tickled her nose. He laughed and replied "I hate resorting to clichés, but that was quite possibly the best night of my life." Eleanor blushed again and kissed him to try and disguise her embarrassment. Just as James deepened the kiss, Eleanor's phone beeped insistently. She broke away with a sigh and walked across the room to where her jeans were when she realised that she wasn't wearing any clothes. James was in hysterics behind her, and she couldn't fail to see the funny side. Nevertheless, she grabbed a sheet from the floor and wrapped it around herself while checking who had texted her. Great. It was one of the girls. They were probably asking her where she was again. A picture appeared on the screen and she gasped. "It's a wedding invitation. For today!" James was getting dressed behind her and he came over to read the message over her shoulder. "I didn't even know Katie had a boyfriend." Eleanor whispered to herself, feeling incredibly guilty but angry that they didn't tell her before. James massaged her shoulders soothingly. "What was the address of the church?" Eleanor re-read the message, the writing in curly italic script. 'You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of Nathaniel Ben Farrier and Katie Anne Eveleigh on Tuesday afternoon, June 2nd at 4 o' clock at All Saints Church followed by a reception.' She replied slowly "All Saints Church. Why? We can't go. We'll be late." James looked thoughtful and looked up the address on his iPhone, smiling as he saw where it was. "It's a short taxi ride away. I feel like going to a wedding. What about you?"


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock studied the drawing carefully. He had taken it from Chloe's bag when she was retrieving her mobile phone and iPod from the puddle. The sketch captured him perfectly, but the eyes looked cold and unfeeling. He had feelings- he just repressed them in order to think better. Emotions cloud judgement. He admired the careful pencil lines that made up the shadows under his eyes and the cross-hatching that constituted his curly hair. She had obviously spent a lot of time on it- but why? She had made her intentions clear to him with that kiss, but what was the point? Kissing was messy, and frankly put him off his food. If a man and a woman had feelings for each other, then why did they insist on showing the world through public displays of affection? Surely there was some logical explanation as to why he felt so confused when he was around her. Something to do with pheromones. He sat back in his chair, wondering how he could broach the subject to her. What about "I have noticed that I feel unwell when you are around. Why is this?" or "I am afraid that I have developed an alarming condition as a result of our continued correspondence. Have you also had any peculiar symptoms?" He sighed. He would call her in a minute and arrange to meet up somewhere quiet and relaxed.

Chloe almost choked on her coffee. "You want us to go to a morgue? Why?" Sherlock replied calmly "I thought it would be somewhere quiet to go." She laughed in disbelief and put the mug down on the sideboard. "That's because everyone there is dead." She could image Sherlock shrugging on the other end of the phone. "What of it? I know the undertaker." Chloe grimaced- he had no idea why the concept of going to a morgue voluntarily was out of the ordinary. "That's good. Why don't you just talk to me over the phone?" Sherlock took the phone away from his ear and glared at it sullenly. "I prefer to talk face to face. I'll be at Baker Street in two minutes. Tell Mrs Hudson to put the kettle on." Chloe and Mrs Hudson exchanged exasperated glances, and Chloe let her take the phone for a second. "I'm your landlady, not your..." she stopped and looked at the phone. "He hung up on me!" Old habits died hard, and Mrs Hudson busied herself making tea for Sherlock and arranging biscuits on a tray. He breezed in a few minutes later. "How did you get in?" Chloe asked incredulously. Sherlock replied briskly "I took the spare key from John's pocket when I saw him at Regents Park. He was attacking me at the time." Chloe nodded slowly and gestured to her room, taking her coffee with her. "We need to talk."

Sherlock sat on a pile of clothes that had been thrown in the corner. "Could you do it again, please?" he asked, trying to shift into a comfortable position. "What do you mean?" Chloe asked, confused. He sighed. "The kissing thing. Do it again. I need to see how it affects me." She crossed her arms and said "I'm not your lab rat. Go and find someone else to kiss you." Sherlock was confused about her intentions. "I thought you wanted to kiss me? You did it twice yesterday." She wanted to strangle him for being so insensitive. "I do. But you don't get it. You have to want to kiss me too, for a better reason than an experiment." Sherlock tried to put himself into her shoes, and felt the frustration she must be feeling. He softened his voice and tried to stay in control of his tone. "I do want to kiss you. Probably. But I've been getting these unusual symptoms when we're apart, and I was wondering if you could enlighten me. Mostly it's stomach churning, and a bit of chest pain." Chloe tried to suppress her excitement. "You mean heartache and butterflies in your stomach?" Sherlock frowned and stood up, saying "It's worse than I thought. Butterflies, you say? How did the bloody insects get in there in the first place...was it something I ate? Maybe it's something in your diet that causes the butterflies to react when they are near you. And heartache? I wasn't aware that there was anything wrong with my heart. Perhaps I'm in the early stages of heart disease?" Chloe had been trying to stifle her laughter all the way through his monologue, but burst into fits of giggles as she said "You're so thick sometimes! There's nothing wrong with you!" She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, this time for longer. He just stood there, looking perplexed. She stepped away, unsatisfied with his attempt. "You could have at least tried." She commented disappointedly. He couldn't bear to think that he had done something wrong. "Can I try again?" he asked desperately. She pretended to think about it, delighted that he was actually responding to her attentions. "Ok. Put a bit more effort in this time."

She had to admit, he really went for it. She broke away gasping, and he paced up and down the room. "Interesting. I felt something. Hunger? Maybe I need food. The symptoms increased in severity. Perhaps the exertion made my heart condition worse?" He swivelled round. "What did you feel?" Chloe was taken aback that he actually asked her a question. How could she describe the joy she was feeling? "Um... I felt happy. And sad." He shone a light into her eyes. "Interesting, very interesting. Please continue. Why sad?" She closed her eyes and thought about the best way to put it. "I'm sad for you, because you don't understand what love is. Love isn't just a scientific process or a chemical reaction, it's all to do with how you feel. And what I feel for you." Sherlock stood back and put his head on one side quizzically. "You mean that when I kiss you, you are sad because you don't think I love you?" She nodded sadly and sat down in her desk chair, opening the folder of drawings that she kept in the drawer beside her bed. "I believe I have something of yours." He said, holding out the crumpled sketch that he had taken from her bag. "You kept it?" she asked guardedly. "It's very good. The eyes are wrong though." She took offence- she had spent ages perfecting those. She extricated one of the many sheets of Sherlock's eyes that she had drawn, and gave it to him. "Ah." He said slowly. "I suppose these are the prototypes. You couldn't get them right?" She shook her head and replied "I tried to capture you when you were thinking. Your eyes are so varied." He asked quietly "Draw me now." She made excuses, saying that she had to think about what she was going to do, but the look on his face was impossible to argue with. She took out a pencil and started drawing.

Sherlock picked up the finished drawing and almost smiled. The picture showed him laughing, which he rarely did. While she was drawing, Chloe had told him all about her life. She had made him laugh once, when she did an impression of John on a bad day. She must have captured that moment in her head, because the drawing was like a freeze-frame. His eyes were sparkling with amusement, crinkled up at the edges. His smile was open and happy- Sherlock was touched by the feeling that had gone into it. He said slowly "You see me like that...all the time?" Chloe shook her head and he felt disappointed, but instead she replied "I wish I did, because you are always so serious. You only live once, Sherlock, and I plan to make my life count." They gazed at each other for a few moments while they worked out exactly what they had discovered about their continually evolving relationship. Sherlock concluded "I'm in love. How novel. I wonder who I'm in love with." Chloe was about to slap him, but he smiled one of his rare grins and reassured her. "Joking." She relaxed a bit, and he said "What do people who are in love actually do?" Chloe blushed and tried to leave out the more dodgy parts of being in a relationship. "Um, you spend time together, you talk about how you feel..." Sherlock nodded seriously and took a piece of paper out of his pocket, taking notes. "You comfort each other when things aren't going well...hey, are you actually writing this down?" He looked nonplussed as he said "That doesn't seem like too much to worry about. I've done the first thing on the list. So, would you like to talk about your feelings now?" Chloe sighed and walked off, shaking her head. Sherlock ran after her and shouted "What did I do wrong this time?"


	13. Chapter 13

Mrs Hudson arranged the veil over Katie's hair and smiled. "You look amazing, pet. Nathaniel won't be able to keep his hands off you!" she teased, and Katie took a swipe at her with a hairbrush. She was standing on a stool and overbalanced, falling off into a very un-graceful heap. Rachel was laughing her head off as Katie fretted about her hair. "Does it look ok? Am I going to have to re-style it? Because that hairdresser woman was a nightmare- she had teeth like a shark! I thought she was going to eat me." Rachel reassured her quietly, trying to calm her down so that she was in a fit state to get married. "You look fine! Honestly! Now let Mrs Hudson put the tiara on you." Katie shook her head violently and whined "I don't want a tiara! I'm not the bloody Queen!" Mrs Hudson tutted and clipped the tiara into place painlessly. "You are certainly not, with language like that!" she scolded good-naturedly, and went all misty eyed when she saw Katie in all her finery. "You look so grown up!" she sobbed, and bustled off to find some tissues. Rachel had to admit that Katie looked absolutely stunning. The wedding dress was second-hand but still gorgeous, designed by Maggie Sottero. It was made of organza and tulle with a ruched fit and an asymmetrical bodice followed by layers of cut edges. It had embellished corded lace and hand sewn flowers with Swarovski crystals adorning the hip and a corset-style closure at the back. Katie wore her hair in a low twisted up-do that looked natural and relaxed so it didn't distract attention from the dress. The wedding was to be a small affair, with only 50 guests invited to All Saints Church. Mrs Hudson put her head round the door to squeal "Nathaniel looks so handsome!" Katie rolled her eyes. Everyone had seen what he was wearing except her. She sighed. "I guess I'll have to wait a while."

"Something old - tiara. Something new -dress. Something borrowed..." Rachel looked at the accessory in Katie's hair and asked "Does that belong to your mum?" Katie grinned and said "She wouldn't let me leave without taking it." Rachel smiled and went through the list of items again. "Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue." Katie tapped her earring. Nathan had bought her a pair of earrings when he saw her last. They were exquisite- tiny silver teardrop shapes with a single aquamarine gemstone in. Rachel gave an experimental twirl in her bridesmaids' dress. Katie had chosen a blue colour scheme. The halter neckline of the simple dress was beaded and it had crystal detailing on the empire waist, which flowed into a breezy chiffon skirt. Chloe burst in without warning, turning bright red as they saw that her lipstick was smudged. "Sherlock walked me here." She explained sheepishly. "He's been wanting a lot of practice at the whole kissing thing." Chloe was wearing an identical dress to Rachel's. Rachel rolled her eyes and sat Chloe down on the make-up chair to redo her lipstick again. "Honestly, you two. Will we be hearing wedding bells in the not-too-distant future?" Chloe grimaced and Rachel smudged the lipstick again with a sigh of exasperation. "No, Sherlock doesn't really do weddings." Katie smiled and replied "That's pretty much what he said when he refused the invitation."

Greg Lestrade was waiting for Katie when she got to the car that would take her and her friends to the church. Due to Katie's mum and dad being unable to come because of car troubles, Greg was going to give Katie away. Her parents had sent warm wishes and regretted the troublesome circumstances that prevented them from being there. Greg asked anxiously "So I just walk you up to Nathaniel and scarper?" Katie nodded, taking his arm to show him how he was meant to escort her up the aisle. Rachel, Mrs Hudson and Chloe locked the door to the flat behind them and came out onto the street. "You have to stick around until Nathaniel nods at you." Katie explained apologetically. "He knows how nervous you are, he won't leave you hanging." Greg adjusted his tie and got into the squad car. Just for a laugh, the wedding car was going to get a police escort. Mrs Hudson was getting a lift with Greg, and she switched the siren on as they pulled away. The girls laughed as they saw Greg looking exasperatedly at Mrs Hudson as the car went past. Rachel and Chloe helped Katie into the car, stuffing her dress into as small a space as possible. "I wish Eleanor was here." Chloe murmured quietly, and Rachel patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. She answered "Eleanor might still be coming, she'll probably go straight to the church with the other guests. She could have been a bridesmaid too, though." Katie looked a bit upset, and asked both of them quietly "It would be better if you didn't mention Eleanor. I can't have her not being here ruining my wedding day." They drove away in silence.

Mrs Hudson gave Katie a helping hand out of the car as she checked the time. "You're just on time, dear. I'll go in now, and give it five minutes before you do your grand entrance. She squeezed Katie's hand and whispered "Good luck!" before hurrying into the church. To ease Greg's nerves, Chloe was letting him practice 'escorting' her around the car park, but they both kept collapsing into fits of laughter. "You'd better not do that in the real thing!" Katie joked, trying to disguise her own nerves. She was so worried that she'd do something wrong. She just let the thought of Nathaniel waiting for her at the end of the aisle spur her on. Rachel hissed "They're ready!" and she and Chloe lined up behind Katie to carry her train. Lestrade took her arm, and with an encouraging nod, he pushed open the doors to the church. The music started up instantly in the familiar wedding march, and the four of them walked up in time to the band. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, and Katie spotted many familiar faces: John, Molly and Mrs Hudson were among them. Sally Donovan and Anderson had been invited, but they sat sullenly at the back of the church. Ah well, Katie thought, there's no changing some people. The music ended as they reached the altar, and Greg left her with Nathaniel, giving her a final reassuring wink as he sat down in the front row. Rachel and Chloe sat down with him. Shyly, Katie looked up at Nathaniel, and her heart nearly stopped. He was wearing a black Cambridge suit jacket with matching trousers and a white waistcoat with a light blue Beckbury tie that complemented his eyes. He looked gorgeous. The vicar's voice turned into a blur as all could focus on was her future husband's face. "Nathaniel Ben Farrier, do you take Katie Anne Eveleigh to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Nathaniel grinned at her and turned to the vicar with a decisive nod. "I do." "And do you, Katie Anne Eveleigh, take..." Katie had been daydreaming and was worried she had missed her cue. "Definitely!" she blurted, and the guests laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry!" she mouthed to Nathaniel, who rolled his eyes teasingly. "I now pronounce you man and wife!" the vicar proclaimed, and before he could say "You may kiss the bride!" they were already in each others' arms. "Ahhhh!" the guests chorused adoringly. The happy couple broke apart, and Rachel and Chloe scattered confetti over them as they made their way to the car again. Katie had a horrible feeling that Rachel was aiming her confetti throws towards her laughing mouth. However, the new young Mr and Mrs Farrier only had eyes for each other.

Eleanor, Luna and James arrived just in time to see the wedding car leave the church. "Damn!" Eleanor cried "We missed the whole thing. They'll think I didn't even bother to show up to my one of my best friend's weddings!" James put a comforting arm around her and asked her to show him the invitation again. "There's a reception afterwards." He reminded her, and pointed at the last line of the invite. "It doesn't say where it is!" Eleanor muttered, frustrated at the lack of planning on the part of the person who wrote the invitation. She soothed Luna, who was upset at the amount of noise. "We'd better follow that car then!" James shouted, already running after it. She scooped up Luna, caught up with him and took his hand, and they sprinted as fast as they could with Eleanor's heels and Luna in her arms. They had dressed specially for the occasion, and now their clothes were working against them. Laughing, they followed the car to its destination: they reached the same club as they had met in all those weeks ago. "Oh, the irony." James murmured as they kissed breathlessly and tried to rearrange their clothes so that they didn't look like they had just run the London Marathon. As they went into the club, Eleanor prayed that Sherlock wouldn't be there.


	14. Chapter 14

The party was in full swing when Eleanor and James got in, but as people realised who had just entered the room, the talking died down and eventually stopped altogether. The more unfamiliar guests marvelled at the impeccable dress sense of the most recent couple to join them. Once again, James wore a tailored Westwood suit, but Eleanor wore a scarlet dress the colour of blood. Rachel pushed through the crowd to hiss "What are you doing? You missed the wedding, and now you're crashing the reception? Don't you dare ruin Katie and Nathaniel's day!" She looked so angry that Eleanor flinched and stood a little behind James, who talked to Rachel in a calm and even voice. "We are here to offer our congratulations to the happy couple. Whether you like it or not is your own business." Rachel glared at him but stayed silent. She could see that there were traces of Eleanor's makeup on James' lips, but she chose not to say anything. John came over to see what the problem was, and although he smiled in relief when he saw Eleanor, he looked like he had seen a ghost when he saw James. "Oh my god. You're meant to be dead. Why can nobody in this godforsaken city just stay dead!" John had never forgotten the time he had been strapped to the bomb in the swimming pool, and he was determined to make James pay for every second. However, Eleanor stepped between them and firmly declared to everyone "James is here as my guest. If he goes, I go." John saw the conviction in her eyes and let them both past, but hissed at James "We're not finished." James whispered back "I think you'll find that we are."

Katie and Nathaniel were slow dancing in each others' arms when the music suddenly faded out. Kissing the top of her head, Nathaniel said affectionately "I'll be right back, Mrs Farrier." She grinned as he left, still wondering how she could be married to such an amazing guy. Suddenly alarmed, she looked around at all of the couples who had previously been dancing but were now all looking at one particular point. There was a gap in the crowd and Eleanor walked through it, blinking in the strobe lights of the dancefloor. Katie ran over to her and gave her a hug, repeating "I know you'd make it, I knew you'd make it!" However, she stepped back when she saw who was holding Eleanor's hand. "I don't know what he's promised you, but it's all lies. Honestly, that man is evil." James looked offended and held out his hands innocently. "I'm reformed, Katie! Trust me! And congratulations, by the way. I'm sure you'll both be very happy together." He said, as Nathaniel emerged from the crowd again and asked Katie "Is this guy bothering you?" Katie told Nathaniel who he was looking at, and his expression darkened to thunder. "Why are you here?" he demanded, putting Katie behind him protectively. Eleanor rolled her eyes and said "Boys. Really. James is here because I invited him. You invited me, remember?" Nathaniel saw the conflict in Katie's eyes. He saw how desperate she was to make things normal again, but at the same time she couldn't accommodate James into the equation. Katie was in shock. "What do you see in him?" she asked in horror, silently pleading with Eleanor to stop this and come back to Baker Street. Eleanor replied simply with "I see the man I have fallen in love with." Everyone in the room gasped. Surely not Jim Moriarty, the criminal genius? Chloe had come over in the middle of all this and said to nobody in particular "Sherlock's on his way, he'll be about five minutes." She stopped when she saw Eleanor and James together. "Oh my god. Oh my god. It's you." James had gone quiet, and Eleanor shook him gently to make sure he was ok. Silence reigned until he spoke slowly. "This is great news. Not only is there a happy couple in the room, but they will soon be joined by the great detective himself! Having seemingly cheated death, he has come back to grace us mere mortals with his presence." Eleanor was horror-stricken. James was fast becoming Jim Moriarty again. "We've got to go. Sorry, I'll call you all..." she told Katie, Chloe and Rachel, but their faces remained impassive and cold. "Go." Rachel told her. "And don't come back."

James smiled to himself as they picked up Luna from the lamppost they had tied her lead to. She was perfectly content to be left on a lead- it was part of her dog-like temperament. Eleanor tearfully led him back to the hotel where she sobbed on the sofa while he stared out of the window thoughtfully. Sherlock Holmes. Alive. How delicious. He shook himself out of his beautiful daydream and went to comfort Eleanor. He was proud that she wasn't afraid to tell everyone that they were together, and he told her so. She smiled through her tears, and let him kiss them away. She asked anxiously "You aren't angry about Sherlock, are you?" James looked up from kissing her neck and replied lightly "Don't be silly, of course not..." His kisses lulled Eleanor to sleep, and he picked her up gently and lay her on the bed. He was surprised at her- she wasn't usually the crying type. Maybe the situation had upset her worse than he thought. He sat down on the sofa and mused to himself. This was a game-changer. Sherlock was more resourceful than he thought. James looked at the sleeping Eleanor, and his heart stirred. He couldn't let her down by becoming the man that she had thought he was. He would wait until the opportune moment to strike back at Sherlock, and he wouldn't involve Eleanor. This was his own score to settle. Besides, if he was quiet about it then their relationship could continue as usual. Luna jumping onto his lap shocked him out of his planning, and he gently tickled her under the chin with a fingertip. He had grown quite attached to Luna in the previous months- she was independent enough not to be needy, but was also affectionate. Her amber eyes blinked at him adoringly, and he chuckled quietly. "You are beautiful, aren't you?" He called room service to get her a saucer of milk and some salmon, and she wolfed it down inelegantly. He picked her up and set her on her cushion, where she promptly fell asleep too. James stared out of the window into the fathomless night sky until he felt too tired to continue and slid into bed next to Eleanor, trying not to wake her. He very much looked forward to the next few weeks. The game had begun again.

Sherlock arrived at the reception in his usual attire. He didn't bother changing into his purple shirt- that was only for special occasions. When he got in however, the atmosphere was about as happy as a wet dishcloth. He pushed his way through the crowd to Katie, Rachel, Chloe, Nathaniel and John, who all looked up when he came near them. Katie was crying into Nathaniel's shoulder, and Chloe was in hysterics. As soon as she saw Sherlock she launched herself into his arms, saying "I'm so sorry! He was were, and he knows, and it's all my fault!" Sherlock put a tentative arm around Chloe and let her cry into his trenchcoat. Good thing he hadn't worn the purple shirt. He asked John "What went on here? Why are half of you crying and half of you staring into space?" John replied, trying to suppress his anger at Moriarty. "Eleanor came back and brought Moriarty with her. Through no fault of her own, Chloe gave you away. Moriarty knows you aren't dead, and he'll be coming for you." Sherlock grinned and Katie saw it. "How can you be smiling? Is this just a joke to you?" Sherlock's look turned apologetic and he said insincerely "Sorry." He whispered to himself "The game has begun again." Chloe looked up at him and he stroked her hair absent-mindedly. That was what you were meant to do in these situations, wasn't it? Rachel swore in a very unladylike way and muttered "If I see Eleanor again..." John held her arm and tried to calm her down, seeing that she was livid about her friend's betrayal. He reminded her "Moriarty didn't know about Sherlock before he got here, which means that Eleanor didn't tell him. You should give her more credit." Rachel looked chastened. "You've got a point," she admitted, "But she was the one who brought him here in the first place." John sighed as he realised that he was fighting a losing battle. Sitting down on the decking, he asked her "Did it ever occur to you that she might see something in him that none of us sees? I mean, sure I want to kill the guy, but she's never made errors of judgement this big before." Rachel looked grim. "Maybe she has now."


	15. Chapter 15

Eleanor groaned as she staggered out of bed and into the bathroom. Kneeling down by the toilet, she threw up the remains of yesterday's lunch. Ew. That was seriously horrible. Flushing the toilet, she clutched her aching stomach. She had serious nausea right now. The noise had woken up James, who came in, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Seeing her pale face, he sat down with her and brushed some strands of hair out of her face. He kissed her lightly and she pulled away, moaning "Don't kiss me, I'm disgusting!" He fetched her a glass of water and she gulped it down, holding it out for more. "Maybe you've got a bug?" he suggested worriedly, picking up his iPhone to ring a doctor who owed him a few favours. She held his arm weakly and said "No, I'll be fine in a minute." Sure enough, she was well enough to stand up and find her way to the breakfast bar. James made her a plate of pancakes, and presented them to her with a flourish. "Since when did you cook?" she asked between rapid mouthfuls. "You pick a few things up." He teased, and was shocked to discover an empty plate already on the counter. "This sounds so greedy, but can I have some more? I'm so hungry all of a sudden." She looked pleadingly at him, and he made her another plate which disappeared almost as quickly as the first. "I didn't even know that I liked pancakes." She murmured in a puzzled voice.

James rang the doctor anyway about Eleanor's symptoms, and then went to town to give her some privacy while the doctor visited. She went to the toilet about ten minutes before he arrived, and suddenly felt desperate again. What was wrong with her? The man came in and Eleanor could see that she wouldn't like him. He had greasy hair and a shifty face, and he eyed the expensive furnishings greedily. Tearing his eyes away from a particularly ornate vase, he asked reluctantly "Describe your symptoms." Eleanor told him about the throwing up, nausea, needing the toilet and eating abnormal amounts. His face turned a peculiar shade of red and he abruptly got up, packing his bag again. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, it's perfectly natural. Don't waste my time again!" he shouted as he left. Eleanor felt perplexed and alone. Luna came up to her and mrowed in sympathy. Sighing, Eleanor gave her a hug and said "You're always here for me. Thanks, Luna." Luna rubbed her cheek against Eleanor's affectionately and she laughed at the fur tickling her face. "Luv ya!" she whispered, and gave Luna another bowl of milk, which she was overjoyed about. Luna would probably be expecting it more often now, but Eleanor felt like pampering her. Besides, she had put up with Eleanor's change in routine admirably...for a cat.

Katie stuffed clothes indiscriminately into her suitcase, muttering "He'd better not be early!" Mrs Hudson came in with a pile of freshly ironed shirts, and nearly dropped them at the mess Katie had made of the living room. "If you needed help packing, then you could have just asked me." She scolded, and picked up the shirts that were lying around the room. "Nathaniel's coming in a few minutes so we can catch the plane! I need to pack!" Mrs Hudson recruited Chloe and Rachel to help and they finished the job in a few minutes. "That wasn't too difficult, was it?" Rachel teased, and the doorbell rang suddenly, making them all jump. "He's here! Oh my god, I'm so nervous! What if we miss the plane?" Chloe propelled Katie and her suitcase towards the door, giving a long-suffering sigh. "You're going to Morocco with your new husband, the love of your life. What could possibly go wrong?" she said, and shoved her into Nathaniel's arms. "Take care of her!" Chloe added, and they all waved goodbye as the taxi pulled away towards Heathrow airport. Nathaniel and Katie sat in the back seat in awkward silence until Katie said in sudden realisation "We're going to Morocco!" and Nathaniel laughed, giving her a hug as the lights of London whizzed by.

Rachel sat on the sofa, feeling pretty down. Chloe was out on a case with Sherlock- something about a groom going missing from a wedding? She had smiled at that- it seemed appropriate given the wedding mood of the week. John knocked on the door with a smile, pleading "Let me in! I have Doritos!" Rachel perked up a bit at the Doritos, and opened the door a crack to peer out at him suspiciously. "Show me!" she smiled, and he dutifully held up a party-sized packet. He grinned cheekily and asked "Pizza booze telly?" Rachel nodded enthusiastically and let him in, taking the bag of shopping. She rifled through the more boring daily items like milk and teabags to get to the nibbles at the bottom of the bag. "Cheese puffs?" she asked sceptically, turning over the packet to see the amount of cheese there was actually in them. "Full of E-numbers!" John shouted cheerfully from the kitchen. She smiled to herself and put them on the sideboard. Perfect for a night in. "You do realise that I'll get so many spots you won't be able to see my face..." she teased. She didn't notice John creeping up behind her and putting his hands that were cold from the fridge on her bare shoulders. "Ahh!" she squealed, and poked him in the stomach. "That was unfair!" They both collapsed on the sofa, watching War Horse with their arms around each other. Rachel cried when Joey was sold to the army. John wondered why she was so affected by it. "What's the matter? We saw it in the cinema, and you didn't cry. I did!" he joked, but became serious when he saw how upset she was. She sobbed "I don't want to be taken away from the people I love! It feels like everyone is leaving me. First Eleanor running off with a criminal mastermind, and then Chloe solving cases with Sherlock all day, and now Katie going away on her honeymoon! To Morocco!" John looked puzzled for a second. "What's wrong with Morocco?" he asked, and she replied with a sniff, still crying silently. "It's so far away. Everyone's leaving me, John." She looked into his kind eyes and she saw the love that shone through. "I'll never leave you, Rachel. That's a promise." He vowed, and they kissed each other tenderly. The end credits of the film rolled, but they were both asleep on the sofa in each others' arms.


	16. Chapter 16

Katie swatted away a mosquito as she climbed out of the taxi in Morocco. Nathaniel was attempting to speak Arabic, much to the amusement of the taxi driver and the general public. "Ana atakallam inglizi. Titkallam inglizi?" he asked desperately, but the taxi driver looked at him like he was insane. He tried again. "Ma-atakallam arabi!" The taxi driver shook his head in despair and responded in French "Je parle français, pas en arabe. C'est l'une des langues officielles du Maroc." He then told him how much the fare would be, and Nathaniel's eyebrows shot up. He argued in fluent French. "Je vais vous payer un montant equitable, mais pas plus que cela." The disappointed taxi driver took the negotiated amount while swearing quietly and getting back in his vehicle, glaring at Nathaniel as he drove past. "Aren't the locals friendly?" he joked. Katie took his arm and they walked up to the hotel, which looked wonderful despite the bad start to the holiday. "I didn't know you could speak French." She commented, and he replied with a pirate-like leer "Isn't French the language of love?" Katie blushed and he saw, grinning at her discomfort. "I'm so tired. Should we retire to our room early?" he teased, and Katie blushed an even deeper shade of red, punching him lightly on the arm. "I'm already nervous enough..." she muttered.

John called Rachel early in the morning, and she woke up with a bleary-eyed yawn. "You'd better have a good reason for being out and about this early." She threatened, and she heard what sounded like coughing from the other end of the phone. "Sorry, just me. I have a bit of a... sore throat today." John lied unconvincingly. Rachel sat up in bed and started getting dressed into some jeans and a t-shirt with 'I'm not weird, I'm gifted' on the front. "Sure. You're an awful liar." She laughed, and he sighed good-naturedly. "Just come down to the street when you're ready." He said, and put the phone down hurriedly when the coughing noises started again. His throat sounded nasty, almost like barking. She pulled on some trainers and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail as she walked downstairs to meet him. He was standing by a gigantic cardboard box with holes in it. "Is this an effort to get me to clean out my room?" she asked jokingly, one eyebrow raised. He grinned and the barking noise came again, except it was emanating from the box and not from John. "Do you want to see what's in the box?" he laughed as she practically ripped the lid to shreds trying to get to the contents. When a big enough hole emerged, a dog stuck its head through the gap and started licking Rachel's hands playfully. "A dog! You got me a dog!" she grinned from ear to ear, petting the dog's silky ears. It was beautiful.

It was built like a Labrador, with a gorgeous fluffy coat and gentle eyes. Something that made it stand out from other Labradors was the colour in its fur. The usual black, chocolate or golden colours of a Labrador didn't apply to this particular dog. Rachel now owned a silver Labrador. The light shone off its coat to give it an almost ethereal feel, and the greyish colour almost had sparkling flecks of metallic silver interspersed in the coat. "Is it a girl or a boy?" she asked eagerly. John looked a bit sheepish and shuffled his feet a bit. Rachel guessed that he had been too embarrassed to check. She changed her question. "Where did you get it? You're gorgeous, aren't you!" she said, addressing the dog with her last sentence. John grinned and looked smug. "I know a man who has a lovely dog called Cassie, and she recently had some puppies. It was a surprise to everyone, because she was meant to be neutered... nobody knows who the father of the puppies was. He asked if I could take one and I said no initially, but when you talked about being lonely a few days ago, and since Luna is... not with us, a dog seemed like the best option to give you some company. When I'm not here, of course!" he teased, and Rachel tousled the fur on the dog's head while thinking of names. "I need something that isn't a boy's name or a girl's name. A unique name for a unique dog." John was looking at the fur on the dog's back. "It's really silver, isn't it?" he mused, and Rachel hugged him suddenly. "That's it! Nice and simple. We'll call you Silva!" she whispered to the dog, and it barked as if it knew her name. Rachel knew that she had made a friend for life.

The room shifted around Eleanor, even though she was sitting still. She was consistently eating way more than her usual amount, but she hid the fact from James, who was out increasingly often. He wouldn't say where he was going, but she trusted him. She ate strange food combinations and abnormal amounts of certain foods. For example, that morning she had eaten five pancakes when she woke up. She hadn't even liked pancakes before, but she was eating them by the bucketload. She wondered if she had a parasitic infection or something. The thought made her shudder. She decided to go out to get some air, and found herself shopping for clothes in Next. She found a top that she loved, and to her horror, it didn't fit her. That was an understatement. She tried on the next two sizes up, and discovered that she was now two sizes bigger than her usual size ten. Size 12. It must be her unusual appetite at the moment. She popped into Boots to get some more foundation, and she stopped in her tracks when she saw a woman in one of the aisles. She was beautiful- she had long auburn hair and slender legs- but she was enormously pregnant.

Eleanor just stood there as all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Strange food taste. Nausea. Vomiting. Needing the toilet often. Weight gain. She asked a hapless shop assistant if she could use the staff toilets, and threw up again, crying and hugging her knees. Trying to compose herself, she came back to the shop floor and thanked the member of staff, who looked sympathetic. She went to the aisle that contained the pregnancy tests. God, this was so embarrassing. Grabbing a random packet and queuing up anxiously, she felt incredibly self-conscious when it was her turn to pay. The lady at the till asked brightly "Would you like that in a bag?" Eleanor had been staring at a display behind the till about planned parenting, and was taken by surprise that she had been asked a question. Blushing, she put her card in the PIN machine and was horrified as it took over a minute to process the transaction. Meanwhile, people were looking at her with pity in their eyes. She hurried out of the shop and almost ran home, where she locked herself in the toilet.

She read the instructions three times. Just to make sure. "Sounds easy enough- you just pee on the stick!" she muttered to herself, and read the next bit. "One blue line means it's working, the second means…bad things. Here goes nothing." Having finished, she glared at the inoffensive stick. She sat it on the side of the bath, and a thin blue line appeared on the top slot. "So it works. Whatever comes next is…" She took a deep breath and waited a few seconds and nothing appeared. Phew. She washed her hands, trying to blot the experience out of her mind. Turning around, she poked the stick just to make sure. Still nothing. She flushed the toilet and started unlocking the door, and realised that she should probably put the test in the bin inside a plastic bag, just in case James saw the evidence. She fetched a plastic bag then picked it up and held it over the bin. Good riddance. She was about to let it go until she saw a second blue line underneath the first. Holding it up to the light, she examined it with growing horror. Two blue lines, sealing her fate. She cursed loudly and colourfully. This was so not happening.


	17. Chapter 17

Silva sat at the foot of Rachel's bed, snoring quietly. Rachel didn't even know dogs could snore. With a bit of prodding from her, John had established that Silva was a girl. It felt better calling Silva 'her' rather than 'it': Silva was too much of a personality to be an 'it'. She had already made herself at home, sniffing things suspiciously to see if they smelled of cat. Silva refused to enter Eleanor's room, which suited everyone else. They had left it a bit like a memorial to her, in the hope that she would come home soon. There was a distinctive catty smell to her room, which was the reason that Silva avoided it like the plague. Luna shed fluff everywhere, so there were some sofas that she skirted around too. However, Silva was perfectly happy wherever Rachel was. John had a soft spot for her, and he read the paper every morning with Silva at his side. Rachel's phone went off with a burst of Chameleon Circuit's 'Still Got Legs', and she went to get it with a sigh. She nearly dropped the phone in surprise. It was from Eleanor. She read it frantically, completely forgetting that the last time they had been in the same room she had insulted both Eleanor and her...what was James anyway? The text completely shocked her and changed her perspective on Eleanor and James' relationship. They were... serious. Very serious. The text read 'Hi. It's Eleanor. Before u delete this, I need to tell u something pretty major. Like OMG I may be pregnant major. Costa Coffee 2.00pm? Won't be offended if you don't come. E x' Rachel re-read the text, and fetched her coat. No matter what had gone on between them, she couldn't abandon Eleanor now.

The sun shone in through the window of the National Gallery as Chloe sketched Van Gogh's sunflower painting. She could make it into an awesome t-shirt. She flipped back a few pages to the fashion sketches, and smiled. Her dream was to own a boutique store full of clothes that she had designed, with mirrors that allowed you to try on the clothes without undressing. Sherlock turned the corner and Chloe shut the sketchbook with a snap. He would laugh if she told him her aspirations for the future. Sherlock didn't have aspirations. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Her eyebrows rose- that was unusual for him. Usually the only time he showed that he cared about her was when nobody was watching. She hissed "What are you doing?" and they walked together for a bit. "I'm in a good mood today. The duchess had put the pearls inside an old copy of 'Ballet Shoes'. They were fake- I knew it from the start. They didn't look at the pawnbroker's thumbnail! The clues are always in the most obvious places." Chloe nodded slowly and made a mental note to analyse peoples' thumbnails more often. "I meant, with the... you know..." He smiled in realisation and kissed her again. "Like I said- I'm happy. When I'm happy I kiss you. Is that ok?" he looked a little concerned. Chloe laughed and said "That's great. Please feel free to be happy more often!"

Katie lounged by the pool in her new sunglasses. She liked to think they made her look mysterious. The hotel was gorgeous. It was owned by a young couple called Hassan and Jasmina, and both she and Nathaniel got on well with them. Jasmina came up to the swimming pool with a tray of drinks for them both, and they sat down together. Her English was very good, but she spoke with an accent. "How are you enjoying your holiday?" she asked, and Katie grinned. So far they had visited Marrakesh, Casablanca and Essaouira as well as taking a hike halfway up Jebel Toubkal, North Africa's highest mountain. "It has been excellent so far. Thank you so much for your hospitality- your hotel is amazing." Jasmina looked modest and gestured to the waters of the glittering Atlantic in front of them. "We have all we need here. Morocco is a beautiful place." Hassan walked by and saw the two of them chatting, and he came to join them. "There you are, rajel! Ya salam! Where have you been?" Jasmina scolded him, and he looked suitably chastened. "I've been looking for you!" Hassan tried to get out of trouble by saying "Makayen moshkil, Jasmina." Katie had picked up some of the language while she was there, and realised that Hassan was telling Jasmina that there was no problem, and he whispered "'Awenni! Tesba ala kheyr..." and scarpered in the direction of the building. Jasmina shook her head in mock despair and translated for Katie, who had lost track of the stream of Arabic. "He said help me, and he tell you good night." She smiled at Katie, who blushed a bit and explained about it being her honeymoon. Jasmina nodded wisely. "I was scared also." She explained, and added "He is your rajel. It will be fine- you are in love. I have the same with Hassan-my impossible me'za. You say goat in English." Katie laughed at the obvious affection Jasmina had for Hassan. She established that rajel meant man or husband. She said in halting Arabic "Shokran, sahba." She was pretty sure that meant thank you, friend. Jasmina looked touched that she had bothered to learn her native language, and gave her a hug. "Good luck!" she whispered, and Katie went back to her room feeling a little bit happier.

Hoping that one of the tables in the corner was available, Eleanor ordered a chocolate twist from the barista at Costa. Might as well, she thought. She was only going to get fatter anyway. She sat down and half-heartedly looked towards the door to see if Rachel was coming. No sign of her yet. She had promised herself that she would wait for an hour, and if Rachel didn't show then she'd go home and work through things by herself. It would be ok- single mums did it all the time. She stopped herself on that train of thought- James would be fine about it. He'd just be a bit...shocked. She'd tell him when she was ready. Rachel burst into the shop unexpectedly and her eyes scanned the café until she saw Eleanor. She ran over and gave her friend a hug, which took Eleanor by surprise. Rachel didn't seem at all resentful like she was at the reception. Rachel asked her seriously "Tell me everything." Eleanor told her about the despair that she had felt when nobody trusted her, the amazing night at the Ritz and the doubt that was going through her mind about James. "What if he goes back to how he was before? I know I can change him, but I can't go between him and Sherlock. This whole baby thing is a bit unexpected as well." Rachel asked her how she found out, and laughed when Eleanor described her shock at the 'symptoms' of the mysterious illness. "The doctor told me it was completely natural, because he assumed I knew that I was... you know. After the test showing what it did, I did some maths and the...night at the hotel was 9 weeks ago. God, that seems like only yesterday! So all of the signs were right on time. I'm even getting a tiny bit fatter. I feel fat, anyway..." She said in disappointment, poking her flat stomach.

Rachel had been stunned to see Eleanor looking so pale. She had looked so confident at the reception that she almost hadn't recognised the pale young woman in the tracksuit towards the back of the building. Even the streak in her hair looked like it had lost its vibrant red colour. As Eleanor talked about what had happened during her first night at the Ritz, Rachel blushed a little bit. She couldn't imagine Eleanor... never mind. James was a better man than Rachel had thought possible, as she listened to all of the lovely things he had done to make Eleanor feel better. The problem was that Eleanor didn't feel that she could tell him about the... you know what. Both of them were uncomfortable with saying the words 'baby' and 'pregnant'. It was weird. Eleanor was adamant that she would keep her baby- there was no question of her backing out. She had broken off mid-sentence to go to the bathroom again. Rachel sympathised, but felt that Eleanor was making a bit of a drama out of the whole thing. She wasn't even sure the maths was right, but maths had never been Eleanor's strongest subject. They talked about college too- she would continue going until later in the year. They debated about what to do when she did start showing obvious signs. They agreed that she should cross that bridge when it came.


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock answered his phone quickly. He recognised the caller ID. "Hello Jim. Or should I call you James? You seem to have been busy..." Sherlock answered, making a snide reference to the mastermind's relationship with Eleanor. "This isn't a personal call, Sherlock. Surely you know better than to pry into my private life." Jim replied in a dangerously low whisper. "Leave Eleanor out of this." Sherlock smiled in surprise- it seemed that Jim Moriarty really had feelings for this girl. "If it's all the same to you, I'll do what I want. Now, what to do about our little stand-off?" he mused thoughtfully. "Showdown at dawn? All guns blazing? Or would you like to snipe all of my friends first?" he suggested angrily. "All in good time, Sherlock. On a previous note, I could say the same about you. That Chloe girl? She's not worth your time. When will you drop her like you did with Miss Adler?" Sherlock grimaced. He had let himself in for that. "Like you said, leave Chloe out of this. I thought this was between you and me." Jim Moriarty chuckled slowly, and Sherlock was worried that he had missed something vital. His nemesis said "You shouldn't play with her. You'll only break her heart. I'm surprised she hasn't discovered that you haven't got one!" he laughed, and Sherlock paced up and down the pavement. He hadn't been expecting this onslaught. "I could say the same to you, James." He replied mockingly, and asked "What do you want?" The possibilities of Jim Moriarty's answers ran through his head and he didn't like his chances in any of them. "I'm tired of this, Sherlock. But we both know the truth, don't we? There's no room for both of us in this world. As much as it bores me, shall we just end it?" Jim Moriarty's voice hardened. "9pm at the Shard, 6 months from today. Right at the top. I've heard the view is wonderful from up there...and that gives you plenty of time to say your goodbyes...again..." he mused, and hung up abruptly. Sherlock stared at the phone and muttered "So be it."

Katie stepped off the plane and into the arms of Rachel and Chloe. The flight had been a long one, but she had spent most of it asleep on Nathaniel's shoulder. She had loved the holiday, but she was so glad to be home. Chloe talked in her ear while they went to the luggage belt to collect their suitcases and have a coffee at one of the stores in the airport. The coffee was a welcome change from green tea in the mornings. "So. How's things with you guys?" Rachel took a deep breath and told Katie and Chloe about Eleanor's situation. "Wow. So they're pretty serious?" Katie asked thoughtfully, chewing a chocolate brownie. "Seems so. She hasn't told him yet..." Chloe looked shocked. "Really? Surely she would if she was serious about him... she was wrong with all the maths and stuff. Maybe she isn't actually...you know, and she's trying to make us feel sorry for her as part of Moriarty's plot?" Rachel gasped at the conviction on Chloe's face. "How can you say that? She was distraught!" Chloe just stared at them both and said slowly "It makes sense. I'm with Sherlock on this one- he doesn't trust them either. I think that Eleanor is making it up." Katie hid her head in her hands- the last thing she wanted on top of jet lag was an argument. "SHUT UP!" she yelled, and Nathaniel recoiled as if he'd been hit. She had shouted right in his ear. "I'm not just going to sit here and listen to you both arguing!" She hailed a taxi and it drove away. Nathaniel looked irritated, and he carried both lots of suitcases to another taxi. Chloe and Rachel stared at each other for a bit and went their separate ways. Rachel felt upset: Eleanor's mistakes had affected them all.

Spending a few uneasy weeks in her room with a pencil and paper was Chloe's way of winding down after the stressful argument with Rachel. They were still not talking. Chloe was adamant that Eleanor was keeping something from them all- she had almost been happy when Eleanor wasn't around. Things were starting to feel normal, and then Eleanor had to go and remind everyone that she was still there, and doing all sorts of stupid things, namely Jim Moriarty. Sherlock would understand. She felt tears sting at her eyes as she picked up the phone and waited. Sherlock answered immediately and sounded disappointed when he realised it was Chloe. "Oh. It's you. That's unfortunate." Chloe was a bit taken aback- she didn't ring him often, and usually he was the one who contacted her. "Were you expecting someone else?" she enquired icily, and the sarcasm escaped him. "Yes, I was. Do you mind putting the phone down? The person I'm expecting may call when I'm talking to you. It's important, more important than you." Chloe felt angry. Why was everything so difficult? She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "When can I call at a more convenient time?" He sighed and there were a series of loud noises from the other end of the phone. "Er...I'd prefer it if you didn't call for about three and a half weeks. There's something I have to sort out, possibly dangerous, probably not, but this is a roundabout way of saying that I can't talk now, sorry, got to go and all that. I'd say talk soon, but we probably won't." He put the phone down with a click, and Chloe punched the wall in frustration and cradled her fingers as they throbbed painfully. That wasn't so sensible. She went back to drawing, hoping that Sherlock would evolve some social skills sooner rather than later.

40 weeks. 40 whole weeks. Eleanor couldn't believe it. She was a quarter of the way there, but it felt like a lifetime. James was noticing her mood swings, and was out more as a result. He missed her. He had also noticed the fact that she wasn't eating much in the evenings. She made up an excuse so that she could see the midwife- 10 weeks was about the right time to have her first scan. She was terrified- surely the midwife would judge her? On the contrary the midwife, Nurse Adams, was lovely. She told her all about what was going on and explained some of the things that Eleanor was feeling right now. She said that she could do a scan to see if the baby was a girl or a boy, and Eleanor waited with bated breath. The ultrasound gel felt really weird. She didn't know what she was hoping for, but let out a gasp of delight when Nurse Adams said quietly "You're going to have a beautiful baby boy." She cried a bit, she couldn't help it. Everything seemed so real- before, she had only thought hypothetically. Now, she had seen her baby. "Your son is officially a foetus!" Nurse Adams smiled, and went on to say "His heart is now beating very slowly and he is about the size of a grapefruit. You should start seeing changes to your waistline around now- you might want to start thinking about maternity clothes." Eleanor smiled ruefully. When she had taken that panicked trip to Next, she had only put on weight because of the medicine that James had got her to alleviate her 'symptoms'. She had bloated a bit, but she was starting to feel like this was the real thing. She smiled- now she needed to start thinking of names.


	19. Chapter 19

"Names, names, names..." Eleanor mused, and started writing down random names of boys who went to her senior school. She was sad that James couldn't have a part in naming his son. Although...she phoned him from the landline and he was surprised to have got a call from her. "Hello. Are you feeling any better?" he asked, trying to mask his anxiety. He still didn't know what was going on, and she felt guilty for keeping this important secret from him. "What is your favourite name for a boy?" she asked, and prayed that he wouldn't catch on to the fact that she had a serious reason behind her question. "Are you writing a book?" he asked teasingly, and continued "I would be tempted to suggest 'James', but I have a few names I am rather partial to. Thomas or Jonathan would be my first choices. Why do you ask?" She was so tempted to tell him the real reason why she asked him, but she couldn't risk it. "I'm writing a story, that's all. What if I gave him the surname 'Moriarty'?" she asked, trying to narrow down the choice a bit. She loved both of the names he had suggested. "I would be flattered! Um...Thomas Moriarty could be shortened to Tom Moriarty. Nice name. Or Jonathan Moriarty, but you can't really shorten that to anything, can you? John Moriarty sounds a bit dated. What about Thomas Alexander Moriarty? That's a good name for a hero." Eleanor stifled a gasp. Thomas Alexander Moriarty. It was perfect. She hastily said goodbye and put down the phone. Her son would be Tom Moriarty.

Rachel knocked on the door of Chloe's room and waited. She was trying to apologise for her mood when Katie returned from Morocco. Chloe opened the door a crack and smiled when she saw Rachel's penitent expression. "I suppose you're here to say sorry." Chloe said, and interrupted when Rachel was about to explain how annoyed she was at her earlier behaviour. There had been an uncomfortable atmosphere in Baker Street for three weeks while everyone had tried to maintain their daily routine. "I know you're going to apologise, but the fault is mine. I've been thinking, and I was wrong to accuse Eleanor. I was tired and bitter, and she seemed like the best person to blame. Not saying that all this isn't her fault, but I know that I would have behaved the same if Sherlock was in Moriarty's place." She opened the door fully and allowed Rachel to sit down. Rachel was surprised at the outpouring of apology- she felt that she was more at fault than Chloe. "I'm sorry too- I partially blamed you for telling Moriarty that Sherlock is still alive. I just hope that Eleanor knows what she's doing...for all our sakes. She thinks she can change him, but I don't know if someone that evil can ever grow out of their old ways." Chloe put an arm around Rachel and they sat there for a few minutes, wondering what the year would bring.

The estate agent smiled, and Katie shuddered unconsciously. He was so subservient- his hair was slicked back with litres of hair gel and he kept offering to get her cups of coffee. He went on to say "We have many beautiful properties for you! The area around Baker Street is really very affordable. Only in the region of, say, £100,000,000: Perfect for a young couple. If you like, I could show you some of the penthouses that we have on sale at the moment, all for very reasonable prices..." Katie could take no more of the endless fawning, and stood up abruptly. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm happy where I am for the moment." She walked out, ignoring the dirty looks the estate agent was shooting her behind her back. She couldn't believe that she had actually considered moving away. Nathaniel would just have to come and live with her at Baker Street for a while. She had no patience for smarmy people like that estate agent, anyway. She took out her phone and called Chloe, who picked up after a few rings. "Hello, this is Baker Street!" she said brightly, and Katie was glad that she had cheered up a bit. The atmosphere at Baker Street had been decidedly grim for the previous few weeks, and Katie was happy that things seemed to be approaching normal again. "I have a confession. I went to the estate agents." Chloe gasped in horror that her friend could even consider leaving them like Eleanor did. "You didn't! Now what will I do? Then Rachel will leave me and I'll be a crazy old lady in a flat by herself!" Katie laughed at Chloe's distress and told her that she wasn't moving away anytime soon. "I was calling to see if you'd mind sleeping on the sofa for a bit? Nathaniel can go on the sofa if you want but I think he'd be tempted to leave me if he had to do it for a prolonged period of time." Chloe pretended to think for a while. She didn't mind giving up her room, as long as she got it back soon. However, she'd much rather sleep on the sofa for the rest of her life than see Katie leave Baker Street. "You've got a deal." She said decidedly. She just hoped that she wouldn't regret it. Nathaniel had better tidy up after himself...

Rachel received a text from Eleanor again. They had been corresponding pretty regularly with updates about her condition. She gasped in delight and told the others what the text said. 'Hey guys. Just a quick heads-up about the whole baby thing: I'm having a boy called Thomas Alexander. =)' Chloe had run around yelling "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!" for ten minutes while Katie shed a quiet tear, sniffing "That's so sweet! Has she told Jim...I mean James yet?" Rachel texted back, her fingers practically flying over the keys. 'Hav u told J yet? Katie wants 2 know.' A reply came back almost instantly, saying 'Should I? Do u think now is a gd time?' Rachel sighed in exasperation, and the girls rolled their eyes. 'DO IT NOW!' Rachel texted back, and Eleanor took a while to reply to that one. Chloe was still going "OH MY GOD! I'm going to be an aunt!" Katie prodded her gently and pointed out that they weren't actually related. "Who gives a damn! We're all going to be aunts!" Rachel sighed. It made her sound so out. Auntie Rachel, Auntie Katie and Auntie Chloe. John would never let her hear the end of it. 'Ok, here goes nothing. Txt u afterwards.' They all looked at each other, and realised how big a deal this was for Eleanor. There was an unspoken question between all of them. How would James react?

James walked into the hotel room carrying armfuls of shopping. "Sorry, Waitrose was a nightmare today. It must be something to do with the Jubilee." He said cheerfully, and dumped the shopping bags on the table, which groaned under the weight and nearly gave way. He noticed Eleanor's expression, and stopped opening cupboards to put the groceries away. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern layering his voice. She explained that her mystery illness wasn't all that it seemed, and he sat down heavily on the sofa. "You mean...you're..." he said slowly, realisation dawning on his face. "I should have guessed from all of the signs. Why didn't you tell me? I would have supported you, Eleanor!" He wasn't angry, but he was hurt. How could she keep something this big from him? "I thought you had enough to worry about, and I didn't know how you'd react. I thought that you would be angry, that you'd want me to get rid of him." James looked up at her and blinked in surprise. He stood up and grasped her hands. "You mean, I have a son? I would never make you do anything like that, cross my heart." She smiled and nodded, seeing the genuine emotion on his face. "His name is Thomas Alexander Moriarty." She added gently, and he laughed through his tears. "You let me name him? You would do that for me?" Eleanor was taken aback by how emotional he was, and replied "Of course! You're his father!" James held her close and kissed her forehead, joyfully shouting "I have a son!" Eleanor wanted to freeze this moment forever, and held James as he sobbed into her shoulder. "I have a son!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chloe grumbled good-naturedly at Nathaniel she made up the sofa into a place for her to sleep. Nathaniel had thanked her at least seven times as he took over her room. She had liberated some of the stuff she didn't want him to see, like the sketches of Sherlock and the notes that he sent her. He had started sending her notes as opposed to calling her, and he had stayed true to his word that three and a half weeks was a good time for her to call again. "Hello. Can we talk now?" she had said, half expecting him to put down the phone again. "Feel free. I was just on my way to Baker Street. I have a surprise for you." He said, and then put the phone down. She laughed- he was so literal. She ran down the stairs and sure enough, there he was. He greeted her with a kiss, and they walked to a Turkish restaurant around the corner. "Turkish cuisine? Interesting choice..." Chloe muttered as they went into the poky building. Sherlock looked surprised and said "We're not eating here. Follow me through to the back of the bar." She trailed after him, avoiding the stares of some of the bar's less savoury clients. "Merhaba. Bu yüzden seni görmek güzel! Ben yaşlarda seni görmedim!" a female voice rang out from the smoky depths of the restaurant. "Sherlock." The woman greeted him with a hug. "It has been a long time, hasn't it? It's good to see you too. Chloe, this is Meryam. She owns the restaurant." He introduced them, and Meryam gave Chloe a hug as well. "Merhaba, Chloe. Any friend of Sherlock's is a friend of mine." She declared, and ushered them through to the back room where a pile of cushions was waiting. "Sherlock proved that my husband wasn't a murderer a few years ago. I owe him everything." She commented as she went through the pile of cushions as if searching for something.

A muffled barking sound became audible through the layers of fabric, and a tiny brown and white springer spaniel puppy wiggled its way out of the pile and into Meryam's arms. "We found this little scrap last night in the rain. He was shivering and soaked to the skin, so we took him in. The problem is, if we get an inspection from the food hygiene office then I will be forced to close the restaurant. Dogs are not allowed in places where food is served. I rang Sherlock and he said that he would bring his lady friend along to have a look at the puppy. I assume you are his kız arkadaşı?" she asked critically, and looked Chloe up and down as if sizing her up. "She means...girlfriend." Sherlock said with distaste, and took a deep breath as he said "Yes, she is my girlfriend, my kız arkadaşı. Happy?" Chloe stifled a gasp. First public displays of affection, then telling someone about their relationship? He must be ill. "Do you want the dog, or shall I drown it? I have no use for it here, and its life would be a sad one. See, it has limp on left leg?" she pointed out, and Chloe took the puppy from her arms, where it nestled into her arm happily and promptly fell asleep. "NO! You can't drown him, he's adorable!" Chloe cried, and Meryam looked satisfied. She was obviously testing to see if Chloe would be a good owner for the dog. "It is settled them. You take dog, you do me favour." She turned away and went back to the bar, shouting "Service, please! Two bira, one ispirto!" Chloe looked down at the sleeping puppy and grinned. They walked out of the fire exit and saw a whole line of vintage motorbikes in the alleyway behind the restaurant. "I'll call you Harley. Do you like your name?" She whispered to the puppy, and he whimpered in his sleep. She giggled and said "I'll take that as a yes!"

James picked up the phone slowly. He had been expecting this call for a while. "I'm not going to bother asking how you got my number." He said lazily. "What could you possibly want, Sherlock? A reprieve? More time to say goodbye?" Sherlock answered impatiently, his voice buzzing from the bad reception. "I want to know. Why are you doing this? You aren't playing any games, you're just making it simple. You could even say boring. So why?" James tutted at the irritation in Sherlock's voice. He said "Things have changed, Sherlock. I'm not the man I thought I was, and I needed to get my priorities straight. I have become a better person, a stronger person. You are the villain here, and I will stop you." Sherlock was taken aback. Surely the greatest criminal mind the world has ever seen couldn't be calling Sherlock a villain? "You kill people. I save people. Define 'villain', Jim." James sighed and said "A question. If you could, would you kill me and everyone I care about?" Sherlock answered without hesitation "Of course. You would do the same." James shook his head slowly and sighed again. "That is where we are different, Sherlock. She has shown me that there are more important things than money and power in the world. I would spare your little sidekick, because I know how much it would hurt you. You would be dead by then, but it's the thought that counts in these things, don't you think?" Sherlock was well and truly puzzled. This wasn't the Jim Moriarty he thought he knew. "And your point is?" he asked impatiently, tiring of Jim's riddles and questions. Time for a straight answer. "If you killed the only person that I love in the world, then you would be responsible for the murder of not one, but two innocents. I can't let that happen." Sherlock realised what he meant with a jolt, and couldn't picture Jim Moriarty as a father.

"You should have been more careful with her then, Jim. What did they teach you in PSHE at school?" Sherlock said mockingly, and continued "You have killed thousands of innocent people in your lifetime, and now you are going to kill me because I might possibly harm one or two people who you actually like?" James felt himself getting angrier by the minute, and he snarled "If you lay a finger on my son..." but Sherlock interrupted. "I see! So you don't want me to kill them because you won't have anyone to train! You're going to teach your son to be just like his daddy? I can't let that happen either." Even James was shocked at the emotionless tone in Sherlock's voice. "He hasn't even been born yet!" James shouted, and added "You can't possibly judge him because of my mistakes!" Sherlock sneered at the protectiveness in his voice. "So you admit that killing all those people was a mistake? Well, that's good to know. Next time some terrorists blow up a building, I bet they'll say to all of the victims' widows and orphans when they're on trial for mass murder 'Sorry, but we made a mistake. Can't do anything about it now. Oops!'" James wished that Sherlock was in the same room as him so that he could kill him where he stood. "That is why I am ending you all at once, Sherlock. Because I am protecting my family." He put the phone down and screamed in rage. "Damn you, Sherlock Holmes!"


	21. Chapter 21

Some days, Rachel was tempted to start writing a book. Nobody would believe it, though. Chloe had arrived home the day before with a tiny bedraggled puppy called Harley, and Silva had adopted him instantly. They were the best of friends, and they went everywhere together. There was one unfortunate moment where Silva got a little over-excited and sat on Harley's head. Because of the distinct size difference between the two dogs, Chloe had to heave Silva's fluffy behind off the yelping puppy, and spent the rest of the day feeding Harley treats while watching Horrible Histories on the television as she shot Silva the occasional dirty look. Rachel smiled to herself- Luna would have a fit if she ever came back to see the house overrun with dogs. She and John planned to have a romantic getaway over the weekend, and she looked forward to it with nervous anticipation. The girls had interrogated her about her love life, and she was sad to say that it was almost non-existent. Yeah, they had kissed, but they hadn't really got over the barrier of nerves yet. John had drawn the line at kissing, because he felt like he would be taking advantage of Rachel if they did anything more. Rachel, however, was indignant that he still saw her as younger than him. In the least dodgy way possible, she wanted him to take advantage of her. She hated being treated like a child, and she hoped that the weekend away would change all that.

Chloe dragged Sherlock over to the sofa and commanded "Sit." He reluctantly did as he was told, and she went over to the DVD rack to see which films he would least object to. "What is the purpose of this again?" he asked curiously, wondering what on earth she was doing. Chloe threw the unsuitable DVDs onto a pile on the floor. "Bambi- no. Titanic- definitely not. Saw 3- He'd like the blood and guts too much. Devil Wears Prada- Never." She muttered, and replied "I'm forcing you to experience an evening in." Sherlock groaned and covered his ears. This was his idea of torture. She laughed at his expression. "Come on. It'll be fun." She coaxed, and he reluctantly uncurled from the protective ball he had been sitting in. The film went remarkably well- they watched Inception, and Sherlock loved all of the plot twists. "No, no, no. It's a dream within a dream, idiot! How can they not guess?"he asked Chloe despairingly, but aside from that, they had time to just enjoy each others' company somewhere more suitable than a crime scene or a mortuary. They even kissed once in one of the more violent scenes, although it was Chloe trying to take Sherlock's attention away from the other things that were going on, namely lots of people dying. He was far too interested in death. As an experiment, she put on five minutes of Titanic, and Sherlock ended up looking as white as a sheet and insulting parts of Leonardo Di Caprio's anatomy. Overall, the experience was fun, and Sherlock admitted that he would do it again. Chloe was still reluctant to take him to the cinema- he wasn't well-trained enough for that yet.

James threw himself into his new role with an enthusiasm that Eleanor hadn't been expecting. He cooked dinner every night and stayed in more often to make sure that she was ok. She was over halfway through her pregnancy now, and they were looking at properties to rent instead of the hotel suite. She would miss the suite- it had so many memories- but it wasn't the best environment to raise a child in, especially since there wasn't enough room for Tom to have his own space. They settled on a property in the outer circle of Regents Park, close to Baker Street than they were before. They chose a house in Cambridge Terrace, a stone's throw away from the Underground station. Eleanor insisted they should try to live as normally as possible, ignoring James' large number of Swiss bank accounts. They would use his money until Eleanor finished college, and she'd take a gap year to look after Tom. James insisted on calling him Thomas, but Eleanor found that Tom was more familiar. She looked forward to the moving-in process, and texted the girls with their soon-to-be new address. She hoped to have a housewarming party when everything was finalised, but she wouldn't hold her breath. The situation was still pretty fragile. She went on trips to furniture showrooms to decide what sort of interior the house would have, and they set the move-in date for a week later. James seemed distracted, and he kept on telling her how much he loved both her and Tom. She was flattered but disconcerted- he sounded like he was saying goodbye. She told him that one evening, and he said "I'm not going anywhere. I just want you both to know that I would die before letting anything happen to either of you." Eleanor loved it when he talked to Tom as if he was already there, but she was still worried about James. "Nobody is going to hurt us." She told him gently, and he looked out the window and said "I'll make sure of it."

Katie and Nathaniel enjoyed living in the same house. Married life wasn't too different from usual, except that they shared a bond that the others didn't have. Nathaniel was always making Katie laugh, even when she felt down, and he was always inventing hilarious chat-up lines and posting them up where only she would see them. As a result, a war ensued. Some of the notes were more risqué than others, and she blushed when she saw them. She wrote even worse ones and stuck them all over his room so that when Mrs Hudson ventured into his room to do a spot of cleaning, she backed out again, fanning her face with her hand and hyperventilating. Nathaniel had talked repeatedly about them both sleeping in the same bed, and sometimes when she couldn't sleep Katie crawled in next to him, but she didn't feel it was appropriate for a house where other people lived too. Instead, they made up for it with outings to places like Madame Tussauds, which was just around the corner from the station. They talked about getting their own place sometime, but they were happy where they were for now. They reasoned that even if Chloe moved out and lived with Sherlock (unlikely) then Rachel and John would stay at Baker Street. John wouldn't ever leave- he had too many happy memories there. Sherlock and John talked occasionally, but their days as crimefighting partners were over for the moment. John was too tired, and besides, he had Rachel and Sherlock had Chloe. Everyone was matched up. John hoped it would stay that way.


	22. Chapter 22

Eleanor heaved a box of miscellaneous things into the living room of the new house. James saw her struggling and took it off her, easily depositing it onto the table. His slight frame disguised a wiry strength, and he had no trouble with lifting heavy objects. He scolded her gently "What have I told you about straining yourself? You should focus on being well. I can do the manual labour!" She made a face and got a lighter box from the back of the lorry. "I am not just sitting around while you do all the work. We share this house, therefore we share the work." Eleanor said resolutely, and James rolled his eyes but left her alone. The house was lovely- the exterior was like the houses on Royal Crescent in Bath but more understated. The ground floor was cosy and contained a beautiful ornate fireplace, whereas the first floor was slightly more modern and was where Tom's room would be. Eleanor sat down on one of the tightly-packed boxes and tried to catch her breath. She was feeling increasingly achy, and her back often meant that she had to lie down for a few hours to avoid straining any tendons. James had taken it upon himself to decorate Tom's room, and Eleanor wasn't allowed in until it was finished. She was looking forward to seeing what James had done with it, and she hoped that it was suitable for Tom. However, she reasoned that James would do his best to make things comfortable for his son. She smiled- James often talked to Tom as if he was already there, which made her laugh. He took fatherhood extremely seriously, and came with her to every hospital appointment he could. They had both breathed sighs of relief when Nurse Adams had told them that Tom was completely healthy. The only thing that James steered clear of was the conversation about delivering Tom into the world. He asked to wait outside while they discussed labour arrangements, and she and the nurse agreed that a natural birth would be the best option, as recovery from a caesarean is quite slow. Although she would have trusted James to look after Tom when she was recovering, she couldn't quite squash the niggling doubt in the back of her mind that drew her attention to James' past.

Rachel stepped off the plane with a sense of nervous apprehension. John hadn't told her anything about where they were going until he took his hands away from her eyes in the airport. Their destination became immediately obvious when she heard smatterings of Italian from the airport staff and the huge sign that said 'Benvenuti a Venezia'. She squealed in excitement and gave John a hug that nearly knocked him off his feet. "How did you know I love Venice?" she asked breathlessly, and he replied "I guessed!" They walked out of the airport and straight onto a gondola, manned by a dashing gondolier. He had the well-toned muscles of an athlete and a sparkle in his eye. "Tu sei molto bella, signorina." He winked at her, and John shot Rachel an anxious look. She responded in Italian "Tu non sei così male da soli!" and translated for John, who looked more than a little jealous. "I told him that he wasn't so bad himself!" she told him gleefully. She was pleased to see the undisguised envy on his face, and conducted a little experiment to see how John would react to competition. She made a point of talking to the gondolier in Italian and laughing a lot, leaving John sitting grumpily at the other end of the boat in a show of indifference. The gondola came to a graceful halt outside a beautiful stately building in a classical Venetian architectural style. The gondolier kissed Rachel's hand as she stepped off the boat and on to the pavement and said "Ecco il mio numero. Si prega di chiamare me, bella signora?" Rachel blushed and took the piece of paper with his number on, and waved goodbye as he took another load of tourists into his boat with a regretful shrug. John stalked into the San Silvestro hotel without looking back, and she worried that she had laid it on a bit thick. The gondolier was in on it, of course, and she had politely explained her situation to him in Italian during the boat ride there. He had shouted his name as the boat turned a corner "Il mio nome è Daniel!" Rachel hoped that she would see Daniel again sometime on the holiday- he was funny and co-operated brilliantly with her plan. She worried that he had co-operated a bit too well. John had already taken the key from reception and as she opened the door to the hotel room, she saw him sulkily sitting on a chair in the corner. She tried to remain nonchalant as he said frostily "I hope you had fun with whatever his name was. You were chatting away nicely for a good half-hour. Should I go home and let you two enjoy your romantic holiday together? You're made for each other, you know!"

Rachel felt awful and took John's hand as she said "I don't like Daniel in that way. We've only just met! I was trying to show you how you treat me like a child, yet you act like a two year old when you think I like someone else!" John turned away from her so that she didn't see the tears welling in his eyes. "I don't blame you for liking him instead of me. I'm old and tired- you are holding yourself back by staying with me. If you want to go to see Darren then that's fine with me." Rachel saw how much it had affected him and gently corrected "His name is Daniel." He rounded on her with anger that covered the hurt in his eyes. "I don't give a damn what his name is! The point is, you shouldn't be here with me! You're young and beautiful and...amazing, and you deserve someone like him. I'm broken, Rachel, and you shouldn't love me." Rachel saw what all this was about in a flash of clarity. John felt like he was old, so he tried to make her leave him so she could have a better life. It was all for her benefit. She saw how amazingly selfless he was being, and how much he loved her to be able to let her go. She knelt down by his chair and made him look her in the eye. "I love you, John Watson, and nothing you can do or say will ever change that." He tried not to show her how relieved he was, and he asked guardedly "You don't like David even a little bit?" She sighed in exasperation and said "Kiss me, you idiot!" They were locked in each other's arms, and neither of them held back. John was through treating Rachel like a child.

James sat at the new kitchen table, fiddling with a knife. Eleanor was asleep- she was more and more exhausted as the days went by. He hummed the words to a song by Ed Sheeran as he looked at his reflection in the knife. "You're just a small bump unborn, in four months you're brought to life. You might be left with my hair, but you'll have your mother's eyes. I'll hold your body in my hands, be as gentle as I can, but for now you're a scan of my unmade plans. And I'll whisper quietly, I'll give you nothing but truth. And if you're not inside me, I'll put my future in you..." He saw his fathomless eyes reflected in the blade, and he cried in the dark. "I'm doing this for you, Thomas Alexander. Remember that." He sobbed, and put the knife back into the block carefully as he counted the days until his appointment at the Shard.


	23. Chapter 23

Katie typed into her laptop 'Properties nr Baker Street, London' as Nathaniel looked over her shoulder supportively. "It's ok, they'll understand." He soothed as he stroked her hair comfortingly with his free hand, while the other propped him up against the table edge. "I feel so bad. Chloe and Rachel will feel like I want to leave them. I'm trying to find somewhere as close as possible but..." "You need your own space. I get it, and they will be fine about it. Honestly. Trust me, Katie." Nathaniel said, and he kissed her on the forehead. "Let's get searching!" he encouraged, and she pressed the 'search' button with finality. It would be ok. A lot of houses came up, but they ideally wanted a flat. Nathaniel had enough money from his job as a Judo instructor to pay the rent, but Katie was still finishing college and so money was tight at her end. "Everywhere is so expensive!" she groaned and was about to click the 'X' button at the corner of the webpage until Nathaniel said "Stop! Look at that one." There was a thumbnail picture of an attic apartment, which looked suitable for the both of them. The advert read 'Apartment for rent upon enquiry. One bedroom, en-suite bathroom, kitchen, living room. Spacious, modern area. Ideal for a young couple.' Katie nearly shouted for joy. "It's perfect!" The price tag was well within their means, and the walk was only five minutes away. "It seems too good to be true..." Nathaniel mused, eyes narrowed at the picture. Katie said "What have we got to lose? We can go and check it out right now, and we don't even have to get it if we don't want to. It looks like a bit of a fixer-upper, but we can do it." Nathaniel saw the enthusiasm in her eyes and he relented. "Ok. We'll go and take a look."

"Aah, Venice. The city of...whatever it is." Sighed John contentedly, and Rachel raised her glass of champagne in a toast to their holiday. John looked a little uncomfortable, so she asked "What's wrong? I thought you were having fun." John smiled shyly and called the waiter, who brought over dessert for both of them. However, Rachel's plate of tiramisu had 'Will you marry me?' written on it in chocolate italic script. Rachel gasped delightedly as John came to kneel beside her chair, trying not to wince as his back gave a slight creak. "I've been thinking about this all week, and I thought now would be the best time to ask you. I'll completely understand if you say no, but we could give it a try. I love you, Rachel. Will you be my wife?" he asked, trying to steel himself for the 'no' that he thought would come. "You idiot! Of course I will!" Rachel cried, and they kissed. John was overjoyed, and kept on murmuring "Are you sure?" against her lips, but Rachel ignored him. They stopped after a few minutes, breathless with exhilaration. "I have some planning to do!" Rachel said, still reeling from the unexpected proposal. John looked a little sheepish and said "I've planned it already. It was meant to be a surprise, but what the hell. Here you go." He gave her a brochure for a stately home called Rushton Hall, and added "I thought we could go to the chapel at St James, or we could go to the registry office if you prefer." Rachel was taken aback. He had done all of this and he still expected her to have said no? "I'm happy with the church- it's more traditional." Rachel mused, and laughed in realisation. "I'm getting married!" John kissed her before going back to his seat. "Yes you are." He said, happy in the knowledge that he and Rachel would soon be together forever.

Chloe stretched languorously, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She and Sherlock were going to walk Harley and Silva in a bit, because both of them needed exercise, especially with Rachel and John away. As she stretched, she felt her fingers brush an envelope that she was sure hadn't been there before she went to bed. She smiled. Sherlock must have a secret entrance to the flat- she never saw him when he delivered notes to her. Picking up the envelope with her fingertips, she realised with detached curiosity that Sherlock never put his notes in envelopes. All the same, she opened the envelope and screamed as a gigantic spider wriggled out of it, waving its legs frantically as it sought an escape route. She jumped onto the bed, watching the creature with horror as it scuttled under her door and into the living room. Breathing a sigh of relief, she felt herself getting angry rather than scared as she wondered why Sherlock would put a live spider in a note he sent to his girlfriend. "Let's see what you have to say in your defence!" she muttered angrily as she unfolded the letter inside the envelope. It became immediately apparent that the letter was not from Sherlock at all. It read 'If you value your sanity, leave Sherlock Holmes alone. This is your first warning.' Chloe realised that whoever sent the letter wanted her to stop talking to Sherlock, and that was not going to happen. She screwed it up and threw it into the bin, hoping that the other warnings wouldn't be as traumatic as the first. She knew that she was kidding herself- they would probably be far worse.

James rang Eleanor when she was in IKEA looking for a new set of shelves for the study. "This had better be important- I'm hunting wild shelves in the depths of IKEA at the moment!" she teased, and realised that James was serious about something. "Can you come home? I need to talk to you about something important. Just... getting something off my chest." Knowing James' moods, Eleanor thought it would be wise to get back as soon as possible. "Ok, I'm on my way. Be about five minutes?" she asked, but James had already hung up. She sighed and gave up on having a peaceful shopping trip- he was obviously uptight about something. She stopped to catch her breath, glaring at the bulge under her t-shirt, now maternity size. "It's your fault I'm feeling so goddamn awful!" she poked her stomach, and continued on her way down to the ground floor. She had taken to using lifts, even though she was absolutely petrified of them, because going up and down stairs often left her incapacitated for around five minutes at a time. She grimaced- Tom wasn't making this easy for her. She hailed a taxi for her return journey, and reached Cambridge Terrace in a little over the time she had told James. When she got in, he practically shouted "Where were you? I thought you had been hurt!" He ran up to her and cupped her face in his hands. "Are you sure you're ok?" Eleanor was shocked at how white he had gone. "I'm fine! I had to hail a taxi is all. Tom has stopped me from moving as fast as I thought. Sorry!" James' face softened when he heard his son's name and he sat down in relief at their new breakfast bar. "Sit down, there's something I need to tell you." Eleanor sat with him warily, going through the list of things he could be about to tell her. Gay? Cheating? Leaving? No, he wouldn't leave Tom. "I need to say that this is not how things will stay. Things will be better for the three of us when Sherlock is out of the picture. Things will be perfect with just the three of us." Eleanor laughed nervously, wondering if James was joking. He had a fevered glint in his eye that panicked her a little, and she said "I'll still see my friends, though. That's fine, isn't it?" James chuckled and shook his head as if talking to a child. "We'll see, won't we? But for now, focus on being healthy. You'll need all of your energy to look after our son." Eleanor was about to reply sarcastically when she felt a slight pushing sensation in her stomach. She grinned and said "Tom just kicked!" James smiled in wonder and stepped towards her, hand outstretched as if to touch her stomach. Eleanor backed off slightly, her sense of personal space interrupted. James looked wounded but realised what she meant and asked politely "May I?" He gestured to Eleanor's stomach, and she reluctantly let him put his hands on where he thought Tom would be. He laughed when he felt the kicking too, and stared out the window wistfully. "Our beautiful son..." he whispered, and went up to Tom's room to do some last-minute decorating. Eleanor stayed rooted to her seat in shock. That wasn't just creepy- she was doubting Tom's safety. He looked so... obsessed. She clutched her stomach protectively and vowed that she would do her best to make sure Tom was safe, no matter what it took and no matter how much it hurt her to do it.


	24. Chapter 24

Chloe was in the middle of energetically ripping up the second mysterious note she had received when Mrs Hudson came in, wondering what all the fuss was about. She made sympathetic noises while clearing up the pieces of paper that littered the floor. "I don't blame you- Sherlock can be so insensitive sometimes." She said with a sigh, and Chloe opened her mouth to correct her but realised that it would be a bad idea to tell people about the notes. She'd be put under virtual house arrest until the girls established who they were from, and all she wanted was to go out on a case with Sherlock. She hadn't told him about the first note when they were walking the dogs. She felt like it would sour the mood of the conversation, especially when he was so uncommonly cheerful. She heard a scratching sound at the front door and went downstairs to see what it was. It sounded like some kind of animal. Pulling open the door a crack, she saw a large bedraggled-looking cat that meowed pitifully until she let it in. It would probably be beautiful if you washed the mud off it, she thought, and wrapped it in a tea towel and took it into the kitchen, shutting an excited Silva and Harley in Katie's room. She dried the cat off, murmuring that it would be fine and she wasn't going to hurt it. It was obviously spooked and could smell dog in the air. Reaching the collar, Chloe gasped in shock. The little diamond-shaped tag on the cat's collar read clearly 'My name is Luna.' While Chloe was holding the tag, the cat had curled up and gone to sleep, happy in the flat as if it had lived there for ages. "Luna?" Chloe said, and the cat looked up sleepily and meowed before returning to its snooze. Chloe grinned- she had missed the strange cat, but how could Eleanor have lost Luna? Things must be bad for Luna to have left by herself. Chloe explained to the cat "You're welcome to live here, but you'll have to put up with the dogs. I'll let them out and see how you react." She slowly opened Katie's bedroom door and the exuberant dogs sniffed Luna thoroughly before falling asleep in a heap with the cat in the middle of the pile. Chloe grinned, her anxiety about the letters fading a little. If Luna was back, Eleanor wouldn't be far behind.

The house was perfect, from the outside at least. Nathaniel knocked at the door and waited patiently for the clicking sound of high heels to approach the door and it swung open to reveal a beautiful young woman. Nathaniel stepped back as if he'd been slapped. "Angelique? I thought you went back to Paris!" The woman's artfully outlined eyes widened in recognition and she glared at him "You left me for your stupid Judo!" Katie watched the exchange, sensing a story. The woman, Angelique, was stunning. She spoke with a slight French accent that added to her mystique, and her elegant height was bolstered by six-inch heels. Katie interrupted politely as her husband and Angelique fought over who left who. "Excuse me, can we see the house now?" Angelique glared at her but let them both in, showing them upstairs. "We need to talk when this is over!" she hissed at Nathaniel, who looked embarrassed and said nothing. As the tour went on, Katie's dislike of Angelique grew. She took every opportunity to make Katie look stupid, like tripping her on the stairs and commenting in a tone of distaste "Clumsy English girl can't see where she's walking." Katie was above being so spiteful, but she could see how desperate Angelique was to impress Nathaniel. They reached the attic, and Katie suppressed a gasp of excitement. It was amazing. The style was very modern and contemporary, and she suspected that Angelique had decorated it all herself. There were prints with photos of Paris on them, which added to the bohemian feel of the place. The sofas were black leather and the coffee table was styled like a sideways Eiffel Tower. The bathroom was luxurious, complete with a huge bath in the centre of the room, and the kitchen was full of top-end gadgets. Katie looked at Nathaniel, who had got over his embarrassment to be in awe of the place. Despite their landlady, they silently agreed that the attic would be theirs. "We'll take it." Nathaniel said, and Katie rolled her eyes at the look of undisguised adoration on Angelique's face. Katie needed to get some things straight with Nathaniel before they moved in- it would be a nightmare if Angelique continued with her advances. Katie's thoughts turned bitter for a moment. Why would Nathaniel stay with her when there were beautiful people like Angelique around?

Rachel and John neared the gondola station, and Rachel couldn't help thinking that she would miss Venice more than anywhere she had ever visited. John hailed a gondola, and they stepped in together, both feeling sad that they had to leave their amazing memories behind. Suddenly, a shout echoed across the street, and Rachel saw Daniel the gondolier running towards the boat. The young man was being pursued by a growling dog that was nearly snapping at his heels. Daniel shouted again "Rachel, si prega di fermare la barca!" Looking at John pleadingly, he rolled his eyes and told the gondolier to stop as Daniel leaped onto the boat and the dog stopped at the dockside, snarling as his quarry got away. Daniel looked as white as a sheet, and he explained to John and Rachel in halting English "The dog, he try to bite because I upset the boss. The boss is mafia, si? I refuse to give him money, he hunt me and if dog catch me, his men be not far behind. I would die. I cannot go back to Venezia, is too dangerous." He caught his breath and both Rachel and John saw how terrified he was of the boss. Rachel could see that he was barely sixteen, and her heart went out to him. On an impulse, she said "Come with us. To England, I mean." John sighed in exasperation but let her continue, saying "You can stay with us, find a job. Um... what is that in Italian? Tu rimani con noi, si ottiene un posto di lavoro. Ci prendiamo cura di te." Daniel's face lit up, and Rachel laughed and gave him a hug. The boat neared the airport, and she said to John "I'll pay for his ticket. Just let me do this for him. He is in danger if he stays here." John grinned mischievously and Rachel's face fell as she realised what he was going to say. "He can stay with us, but you'll be the one telling Mrs Hudson why a good-looking young Italian is sleeping on the floor in her living room!"


	25. Chapter 25

Eleanor stayed very still until she was sure James had left the house. It had taken some persuading to convince him that she needed more paint for the living room, and she made a show of pretending she was in pain so she wouldn't go herself. It had been a few days after his bizarre speech, and she had decided that she would leave him, for Tom's sake. She missed Luna as well. Luna had left her a day ago, and she hadn't stopped looking for her since. Luna would never leave her unless she knew that her owner was going to follow. She clung onto the memory of his kiss as he walked out of the door. What she was doing was right. It had to be. She just had to make sure. The pain she had faked wasn't too far from the surface- she felt sick and dizzy and her stomach occasionally gave crippling muscle spasms. But she'd be ok. She struggled to the door of Tom's room and opened the door, gasping in horror as all of her suspicions were realised. The room wasn't suitable for a baby boy! The walls were painted in a grey tone that matched the carpet, and all of the accessories were black. It was sophisticated, sure, but not what a small child would want. It even had a desktop computer, for god's sake. Eleanor opened the drawers of the desk, hoping that they were empty but being sorely disappointed. They were full of books, like 'War and Peace' by Leo Tolstoy and 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu. What was James thinking? Another muscle spasm ripped through her, and she resolutely grabbed her coat and bag. She left a quick note and left her new house that had previously held such a promise of good times to come. Biting her lip to manage the pain, she locked the door and walked in the direction of Baker Street, hoping that the girls would take her back. Every step was a conscious effort. Eleanor knew what was going on inside her, she just couldn't face the harsh reality of the situation. She was determined to go home, to her real home. That had been, and always would be, Baker Street.

Rachel heard a knock at the door and called Chloe, who ran downstairs hoping it would be Sherlock. Rachel and John were looking in the papers for jobs that Daniel could do. There were plenty of water-based jobs near the Thames, but London had no use for a gondolier. They were hoping that one of the sightseeing boats would need a new crew member, but Daniel had no experience on board a powered vessel like the many-seated tourist boats. They knew that he would want to go out and do something with his time, as he was incredibly curious about a city with pavements instead of waterways. He had explained to Rachel in Italian "Non sono mai stato da nessuna parte tranne che per Venezia in tutta la mia vita! Londra è così strano in confronto. Dove si trova tutta l'acqua? E 'strano per me." Rachel laughed at John's expression of pure confusion. Daniel had attempted to teach him Italian on the airplane ride home, but he was still limited to 'si' and 'ciao'. She explained "Our Italian friend here hasn't been anywhere other than Venice in his entire life. He says that London is strange in comparison, and he asks where all the water is! He also says that it is strange for him." John nodded in understanding and went to make Daniel a cup of tea, which he had become rather partial to in the day or two he had spent in England. Suddenly, the content atmosphere was shattered with Chloe's scream, and all three of them ran downstairs to see Eleanor slumped on the doorstep and Chloe panicking beside her. "She's not actually breathing..." Chloe said in horror, Rachel and John moved Chloe out of the way as their medical training kicked in. "Overexertion- she's not breathing and...she's in labour!" Rachel said in shock, and John immediately backed off. "You're meant to be a doctor!" Chloe cried, and John ran upstairs shouting over his shoulder "Exactly- I'm a doctor, not a midwife! They didn't have babies in Afghanistan! I'll call the ambulance." Rachel rolled her eyes and tried to establish what the problem was. It might be too late once the ambulance got there, and they had to save Eleanor and Tom as well. After doing a few quick preliminary tests, she sighed and stepped away. She didn't have a clue about delivering babies. She was only a medical student, for Christ's sake! They had all forgotten about Daniel, who pushed his way to Eleanor's side and began performing CPR. "What are you doing! You need medical training to resuscitate people!" Rachel cried, trying to move Daniel away from Eleanor, but he stayed firmly where he was. "We have same problem on farm when I am young. It is the same with horses." Daniel explained, and suddenly Eleanor took a huge breath but immediately started hyperventilating. "That's just brilliant. Horses." Chloe muttered, going a little green and running upstairs to get away from the smell of blood. Daniel looked at Rachel and began a sentence in English and gave up, instead giving rapid instructions in Italian. "Il bambino è il modo sbagliato up. Abbiamo bisogno di girare la testa intorno." Rachel realised that he meant the baby was the wrong way round, and they had to turn it. She was about to protest until Daniel said "The baby will die and so will the mother if we do not do something." Taking a deep breath, Rachel asked "What do you need me to do?"

Nathaniel couldn't escape questioning for too long. Katie cornered him in the bathroom and said "So, how do you know Angelique?" He sighed and looked down at the floor, half ashamed and half defensive. "She was my girlfriend in senior school, ok? She was one of the popular girls, and I thought it would be good for my 'sporty guy' image if I had a girlfriend." He ignored the dirty looks he was getting from Katie as he continued "She was obsessed with me. Every day I got calls and texts saying 'Meet up in 5 mins?' and stuff like that. She said she was going back to Paris in a week, and to be honest, I was glad to be rid of her. It was nothing serious, and besides, she hates me now." Katie raised an eyebrow and said "Are you joking? Have you seen the way she looks at you?" Nathaniel growled "I hadn't noticed. Do you really think so little of me that you think I would run off with an ex-girlfriend on the basis that she's pretty? We're married, Katie! Of course not!" He made her feel small and insignificant. "Do you think she's pretty then?" she asked pointedly. He blushed and said "Yes, but that's not the point. I think you are too. She's just a different kind of pretty." Katie crossed her arms and said "So you think she's in a different league to me?" Nathaniel was about to reply when Katie got a call from Chloe saying "Get over here now- emergency!" Nathaniel read it too and said "Can we leave this alone for a bit? I'm guessing whatever is going on at Baker Street is more important than my past love life." Katie grudgingly agreed, and they ran out the door, going past a bemused Angelique on the way down, who waved coquettishly at Nathaniel as he went past. Katie stopped briefly and said angrily "Stop flirting with my husband!" Angelique smirked and replied in a low voice "Then tell your husband to stop flirting with me!" Katie ran after Nathaniel, knowing that they had a lot to sort out.


	26. Chapter 26

The last thing Eleanor could remember was a feeling of overwhelming tiredness that threatened to overtake her completely. She had collapsed in the doorway of Baker Street, finally succumbing to the pain, and she must have hit her head on the doorframe on the way down. She saw James laughing maliciously as he whispered "You'll never be free of me!" His face then morphed into Chloe's terrified expression and she yelled "She's not breathing!" and everything went black. She apologised to Tom in her head- she had let him down. Bright lights woke her, and her eyes blinked reflexively to adjust to the new setting. She tried to remember what had happened after she had blacked out. A man had bent over her, she remembered that much. She thought at first it was James, but it couldn't be. This younger man had a tanned face and spoke rapidly in a different language. Spanish? He had thumped her chest, and she wanted to cry out that he was hurting her but she couldn't. He breathed into her mouth like he was kissing her and continued with the regular compressions. The sensation of being kissed by him was strangely familiar to her, like she had known him before. His breath was hot on her face- he smelled of cinnamon. It was a comforting smell. She remembered taking a huge gulp of air and everything becoming clearer, including the pain. She had gasped in agony until Rachel and Chloe returned to her side. The man had gone from her side, and she wanted to ask someone who he was. She had cried when they went away and the ambulance staff took over. She guessed that she was now in hospital. She tried to sit up but only succeeded in propping herself up against the pillows. She touched her stomach, expecting there to be the huge bump as there was before, but she realised with shock that her stomach was almost flat again as her hand hit thin air. She needed to see Tom. She was about to stand up and go to look for him when Chloe, Rachel and John came in to congratulate her. "Where is Tom? I need to see him!" Eleanor protested weakly, and a midwife came in with what looked like a bundle of cloth. "Here you go. One beautiful baby boy." She said, and stood by while Eleanor looked at her son's face for the first time. She gasped in shock- he looked so much like his father. He had James' eyes. She reminded herself that he looked like the James she loved, not the obsessive man that he had turned into. She hugged Thomas Alexander gently to her chest, and everyone crowded round to look at him and say how lovely he was. Eleanor felt a rush of love for the vulnerable baby in her arms. He wouldn't be held responsible for his father's mistakes.

Katie rushed into the hospital ward with Nathaniel hot on her heels. They burst into room 251 to see a crowd of people around Eleanor's bed. Katie looked at Eleanor's new son with a mixture of fascination and fear. He was like a miniature version of Jim Moriarty. However, he looked innocent and untouched by the evil that had claimed his father. She edged closer to the hospital bed and whispered "Sorry we're late. We were seeing the new house." Nathaniel asked Eleanor if he could hold Tom, who yawned and went to sleep in his arms. Katie laughed- Nathaniel seemed so hapless with anything vulnerable, be it babies or small animals. He had told her that he once dropped a guinea pig on its head when he was little. It was never the same after that. She hoped that the incident with Angelique could be put behind them. She asked Eleanor about what had happened to make her leave James for good. Eleanor explained "He was obsessed with the idea that the three of us would be together. I think he's planning to kill Sherlock. He wouldn't let me see you guys- he had me under virtual house arrest. I managed to make him go out of the house for a while so I could see Tom's room, and I was so horrified that I had to leave, and get back to all of you. You are my family now." Tears welled in her eyes, and Chloe, Katie and Rachel hugged her gently. "We won't let Moriarty take Tom." Chloe promised, and reminded herself to tell Sherlock about all this when she saw him next. She couldn't have him getting hurt. "Please, call him James." Eleanor pleaded. "I'm trying to keep the good memories alive so that I can tell Tom when he's old enough. I can't have you all telling him that his father was an evil man- he has some good in him. He just needs to find it." They all nodded encouragingly, but secretly thought that Eleanor was deluding herself.

Rachel found Daniel standing by himself in the corridor and looking out of the hospital window pensively. "Will you tell me what happened to make Elea... I mean, the lady come to your home in such a way?" he asked pleadingly. Rachel knew that the story would take a while to tell, but since Daniel had saved Eleanor's life, she thought he had the right to know. When she had finished, Daniel looked sad and sat down in one of the waiting room chairs. "I feel I should go to her, but she might hate me." He said, and Rachel looked puzzled. "Why do you think she will hate you? She has every reason to feel grateful, once we explain who you are." Daniel sighed and gestured for Rachel to sit down with him on the next chair. He whispered something to her, and Rachel's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you sure?" she asked Daniel, who looked even sadder than before. He nodded and thought about how to put his thoughts into words. "She will not remember. It was too long ago, I was not important enough to her, I fear." Rachel thought about what he had said to her, and wondered why he had lied to her in the first place. "So, you have been here before. You lived in England when you were little." He sighed and looked imploringly at her, as if to say that what he was about to tell her shouldn't be repeated to anyone else. "Yes, it is true. I lived here in England on a farm with my mother, who is English. My parents split up and my father brought me to Venezia, but not before I had been to secondary school in England. I was in the year below her. I knew her, but she was very different then. She was quiet and stayed in the library of the school, and I took every opportunity to tell her of my feelings for her. Our friendship became something more, but my father took me back to Venezia without saying goodbye. He stole the best months of my life. She has probably forgotten me, and that is good. She has moved on, whereas I cannot. But this is the fault of me, and not of her. I was younger, so she would have left me to go to her own college soon. But I did not say a proper goodbye, and it is for this that I fear she will hate me. I would like nothing more than to see her again. When she was lying there on the doorstep, I had to save her. How could I not?" Rachel took a deep breath. Whoa. This was bad timing. She tried to explain to Daniel that Eleanor would be confused for a few days. "She is a new mother. I hope you realise that the best thing for her right now would be to support her. She doesn't need another man in her life- it will just confuse her further. Understand?" Daniel nodded reluctantly, but Rachel could see that he wanted to disobey her. He looked at Eleanor through the door and Rachel could see the longing in his eyes. She could see that he wanted nothing more than to go to her, but she admired the fact that he cared for her enough that he would stay away if he thought it was best. She wondered with detached curiosity why Eleanor hadn't told her about Daniel before. They had known each other then. She sighed and went back to the bedside to make sure Tom was ok. She wondered what Eleanor would do when she discovered her old boyfriend was not only in the same country, but in the same building as her.


	27. Chapter 27

Sherlock knocked on the door of the hospital room respectfully. He needed to see the son of Jim Moriarty with his own eyes. Chloe opened the door and put a finger on his lips before he could say anything. "Tom is asleep." She whispered, and Sherlock rolled his eyes but stayed silent. What was it about girls and babies? He saw nothing attractive about the pink, wailing things. He knew that he was a baby once, but he shuddered to think about it. As he approached the hospital bed, Eleanor looked up at him and he could see the startled expression on her face. She obviously knew this wasn't a courtesy call. "Let's see it, then." Sherlock said briskly, and Eleanor's face darkened. That was a mistake. She said plainly "If you call my son an 'it' again then you'll be ending up in one of these hospital beds, do you hear me?" Sherlock could see the protective anger blazing in her eyes, and he took a step back. He didn't think it would be a good idea to provoke Eleanor at this point in time. "Ok, I'll rephrase that. Can I see him? How much does he look like his father?" Eleanor looked down at Tom and saw the many similarities between him and his father. He was starting to get the same jet-black hair as James, and their eyes were incredibly similar. Every time she looked at him, she did a double-take. He was definitely James' son- there was nothing visible that Eleanor could see had come from her. She said reluctantly "Very. But don't judge him- he's my son just as much as he is James'." Sherlock took a long look at Tom. He was remarkably tolerable for a baby- he wasn't as chubby as he had expected- he was very slight. Built like his father: he'd probably develop the same wiry strength later on.

Eleanor objected to her son being analysed like a horse Sherlock was debating whether to buy or not. "Are you done?" she asked sarcastically, and he explained "I need to see whether he'll be easy to hide. Evidently not, from the alarming resemblance to his father. You'll need to keep a low profile if you don't want Moriarty to take your son for himself- he can and he will." Eleanor glared at Sherlock but gave up, sighing "His name is James, just James." Sherlock ignored her and carried on "I would suggest adopting false identities, but from your annoyingly stubborn demeanour, I can see that isn't going to happen. Just don't do anything abnormally stupid." She and Sherlock obviously weren't going to be friends, then. She wondered why Sherlock cared so much about Tom. "Why don't you just let him take Tom, if you obviously think so little of us both." She asked, genuinely curious about the answer. Sherlock looked at her like the answer was evident, and sighed in exasperation. "If Moriar...James decides to take your son, Tom, then he'll train him to take his place. We'll have a new criminal mastermind at large in London, and I think one is quite enough, don't you? And all the sentimentality, of course. I think you'd miss Tom if you never saw him again. Alternatively, Mor...James could take you as well. Not too likely- he probably has a grudge against you now that you've started thinking independently." Eleanor disliked Sherlock immensely- she didn't have a clue what Chloe saw in him. "Ok, get out. I won't do anything stupid as long as you keep your distance from me. I have enough people out to get me without you being all superior." Sherlock walked off down the corridor, and Chloe said "Sorry, he's not always like this!" before following him out. She stuck her head round the door again "We knew you'd be coming home soon, because Luna turned up at the door a few days before you!" Eleanor felt relieved. She couldn't wait to return to Baker Street again.

Rachel looked through a wedding catalogue with detached interest. There must be so many people out there with more money than sense, she thought absently. Some of the dresses were ridiculous. However, she knew she had found the one for her. It was simple, like the whole occasion. It had a crossover ruched bodice with a sweetheart neckline made of Paris chiffon that fell softly to the hemline. In plain English, it was elegant and chic without being overcomplicated. Just what she wanted. She had no idea what John would be wearing, but it would definitely be one of his mess kits for Army dinners. Mess kit was essentially a dinner jacket and trousers but with the medals pinned on the front of the jacket. Rachel knew that he would look great no matter what he wore. The wedding was in two weeks, which should be in time for Eleanor and Tom to be out of hospital. She looked over the guest list again- only close friends and family. She didn't know who would be giving her away- her parents hadn't been in touch for a while. She was tempted to ask Greg again- he had done a flawless job at Katie's wedding. She smiled- who would be next to get married? She suspected that Chloe was more likely to marry Sherlock than Eleanor was to marry James- somehow he seemed like even less of the marrying type than Sherlock. A little voice in the back of her head said that Daniel would be perfect for her, but she shut it out. Eleanor could do what she wanted- things were much more complicated for her than she had probably ever imagined. Going back to the wedding plans, she hoped that all three of them could be bridesmaids this time. She was going for a nature-themed colour scheme, with all three of the bridesmaids wearing knee-length thyme green dresses. They didn't sound too appealing, but they looked beautiful when you saw them. The church would be full of flowers...she was getting a bit carried away now. She laughed to herself and started ringing the catering company about the wedding feast.

Nathaniel concentrated on the TV screen, trying to copy the chef on the Good Food channel and only succeeding in burning his thumb on the hob. "How do you do it, Heston?" he asked despairingly as he stuck his finger under the cold tap to ease the pain. He heard the door creak open and he said reflexively "Hi babe. Sorry about this. I was planning to surprise you..." He turned around to see Angelique shut the door secretively and slink up to him. "And I was planning to surprise you." She purred, and he rolled his eyes. "Listen. We went out at school. Yes, I think you're attractive, and I apologise if I led you on. I often flirt out of habit..." Angelique heard someone approaching up the stairs and winked at Nathaniel with a crafty look in her eye. Before he knew it, she had flung herself at him and was busy kissing his face off when Katie opened the door and stared in horror. Nathaniel disentangled himself from Angelique's arms and ran after her, but she had locked the door again. As he fumbled for the keys, he asked furiously "What on earth did you do that for?" Angelique was busy retouching her lipstick nonchalantly using a compact mirror, and she shut it with a snap. "She needed to see how much better off you are with me." She explained, and Nathaniel pushed past her to catch up with his wife. "We are happily married!" he shouted as a parting shot, and Angelique sighed in mock-regret and muttered "Not anymore..."

Chloe didn't know whether to open this one. It was fatter than the first and second letters put together. She had to know what was in it, though. She gingerly used her fingertips to peel open the envelope slowly, and a package fell out. She untied the string and found a framed photo of the four of them together that she had misplaced a few weeks ago- Katie, Eleanor, her and Rachel. However, all of their faces had been messily cut out except for Eleanor's. Chloe recoiled and dropped the photo on the floor where the glass shattered. A note was legible on the back of the photo, so she read it apprehensively. It said 'If you don't leave Sherlock Holmes, this picture will become reality.' Chloe almost sighed in relief. Whoever wrote the notes was losing their form- the second letter had given her nightmares. It had been a photo of her as she was walking out of Baker Street. She didn't know she was being watched until she read the note inside. 'Next time, the shot from a camera will be the shot from a sniper rifle. Sleep well.'


	28. Chapter 28

Sherlock picked up the phone apprehensively after recognising the caller ID. "Mycroft. Long time no see. How's the..." Mycroft sighed in exasperation, recognising the long-running joke between them. "The diet is going perfectly well, thank you. I'm calling because I need a new secretary. Unfortunately, Anthea has been unable to continue her employment." Sherlock commented thoughtfully "Yes, it's difficult answering phones when your head is missing." Mycroft sighed again and said "I'm not even going to ask how you know that." Sherlock smiled fleetingly. Score one to him. "I don't think I know enough people with the lack of qualifications you need." Mycroft laughed sarcastically and speculated "Or maybe that's because you know so many women. I can imagine crime scenes provide hours of entertainment for a lady companion." Before he had thought about it, Sherlock retorted "Contrary to popular belief, I have a girlfriend." Mycroft was almost stunned to silence. "Then I would very much like to meet this miraculous woman... assuming it is a girlfriend, and not a boyfriend we're talking about. 1:30pm, The Park Plaza hotel gardens. I look forward to it." Mycroft said gleefully, and put down the phone before Sherlock could refuse. He sighed. How would he explain this to Chloe?

"Katie! Katie, wait! I'm so sorry, Angelique just threw herself at me, I couldn't stop her." Katie rounded on him with a glare. "That explains why you weren't putting up a struggle! I could see the pained expression on your face- kissing someone as stunning as Angelique is so strenuous, isn't it?" Nathaniel was taken aback by the fury on Katie's face. "Listen, it's not my fault! She heard you come upstairs, she wants to split us up!" Fleeting confusion passed over Katie's face, but she tried to stay angry at her husband. "We are married. You can't go kissing other people! Especially not skanky ones like Angelique!" Nathaniel finally managed to grab her hand before she took it away in disgust. "Exactly! We're married- for better or for worse, remember!" his gorgeous eyes looked pleadingly at Katie, and she gave up being angry. "Just...don't do it again. And no more of that flirting, either. Otherwise I'll leave." She warned, and Nathaniel was so relieved that he said "Anything. I'll do anything." Katie grinned suddenly, and Nathaniel realised that he could have made a huge mistake. "Start off by getting me a coffee then!" she laughed, and they held hands as they walked to Starbucks together.

Eleanor nearly burst into tears when she saw her bedroom again. "Luna!" she cried, as her gigantic feline friend launched herself at Eleanor's legs and nearly tripped her over. Luna was ecstatic- she rustily purred like a machine and kept on reassuring herself that her owner was really there by twining herself around her legs every once in a while. "Careful, Luna. I'm holding Tom." She warned good-naturedly, but couldn't be more pleased to see her cat again. She introduced them both, making sure that Luna didn't try to bat Tom. She coped remarkably well, and started treating him like a kitten until Eleanor hastily moved him away from Luna's reach. She apologised to Rachel. "Sorry to be taking up more space. There must be loads of us in Baker Street now." Rachel counted off on her fingers, trying to see how many people there were. "Take off Katie and Nathaniel, so we're left with you, me, John, Chloe, Sherlock (sometimes) and Da..." Eleanor frowned at the last one, wondering who else had been living there while she was gone. "Da? Who is that?" she asked quizzically, and Rachel sighed. There was no point in lying to Eleanor about Daniel, they'd have to sort it out by themselves. She went to find him, and he was where she thought he would be. "Ciao, Rachel." He greeted her, sitting precariously on the edge of the roof. He had claimed this spot when he needed to think, and he had proved to be an exceptional climber. Mrs Hudson had locked the window, but he stole the key and came and went as he pleased. Mrs Hudson didn't mind really- she treated Daniel like a surrogate son. She found him incredibly charming, with his Italian accent and devil-may-care attitude. Rachel said quietly "She wants to see you." A look of pure joy suffused his face until it registered that he would have to explain to her why he left. "You tell her about the...incident?" Rachel nodded, remembering the way that he had moved all of them out of the way and saved Eleanor's life. He had enjoyed it rather too much, Rachel thought, remembering the look on his face as he breathed into her friend's mouth, willing her to live and murmuring to her in Italian. Daniel sighed. "I will go see her, then. You will give us privacy?" he pleaded, and Rachel agreed reluctantly. She liked Daniel a lot, but she had a feeling that he would put his needs before Eleanor's when she had been through so much already.

Daniel knocked at the door softly, and heard a voice call "Come in." He couldn't believe that he would be seeing her after so many long years without even a photograph. He pushed the door open and saw Eleanor look up and freeze, a haunted expression on her face. He swore in Italian in his head, feeling stupid for dredging up the past like this. She had changed, he thought, but in a good way. She had dyed her hair and wore contact lenses, not glasses. She looked less shy, and more confident. He cleared his throat. "I believe I owe you an apology, cara mia." Eleanor flinched at the term of endearment, and said "You left. You are no longer part of my life. I have enough to worry about without you suddenly appearing out of the blue." Daniel sighed and edged closer, feeling awkward holding a conversation halfway across the room. "You owe me a thank-you." He said, and Eleanor automatically replied "Thanks. Now go back to Italy or wherever you came from." Daniel tried to pretend that her words didn't sting, and carried on. "I was hoping that thank-you might be in the form of a coffee. That is what we used to do, wasn't it?" Eleanor nodded grudgingly, and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He hoped she hadn't agreed just so that he would leave her alone afterwards. She chose the café around the corner, and they walked there in virtual silence. What do you say to someone who you haven't seen in years? He ordered what he always had, a cappuccino, and he was pleased to see that Eleanor had chosen exactly what she usually had as well. He smiled- he remembered the times they had gone to the coffee shop down the road after school, and Eleanor would always insist on paying, and he always refused. It happened this time as well, and Eleanor couldn't hide the fleeting smile on her face quickly enough to stop Daniel from seeing it. He knew that she was anxious about her son- she didn't want to leave him for too long. She looked at him with carefully maintained nonchalance as they sat down at one of the corner tables. He wondered how she had looked at the boy's father. She sighed, momentarily dropping her uncaring façade to show a weary and careworn face. However, it soon disappeared. "Talk." She said briskly, and he told her all about what had happened to him in Venice up until the present day.


	29. Chapter 29

Chloe looked at the latest note with a mixture of curiosity and fear. This one was short, and only contained one number. It was a number 5. She wondered what it meant, but threw it in the bin anyway. Sherlock knocked at the door, and she hastily brushed her hair while shouting "One second!" She always had an absurd impulse to look her best around Sherlock, but he was the least likely person in the world to actually care what she looked like. She was pretty sure he only had two different outfits in his entire wardrobe. She told Sherlock he could come in, and he practically dragged her straight out the door again. "We're going to dinner." He said quickly, hoping that she wouldn't ask any questions. Chloe being Chloe, she talked his ear off all the way to the Park Plaza hotel. "Who invited us? You wouldn't take me out normally, so there must be a special reason. I'm wearing jeans, for goodness sake! It had better not be anywhere posh, or I'll kill you." She commented cheerfully until Sherlock stopped her outside the revolving doors into the building. "We're seeing my brother. Act natural- he'll ask some searching questions, probably asking for your life story up until now. Oh, and be sure to ask him how his diet is going. He'll love that." He said as an afterthought. He took Chloe's hand with a vice-like grip and took her over to where Mycroft was standing in the smoking terrace of the bar. "I didn't know you were smoking again, Mycroft." Sherlock remarked by way of introduction. "A man can dream, can't he?" replied Mycroft wistfully, and turned the full force of his gaze towards Chloe.

"Hello Mycroft. How's the diet going?" she asked politely, and Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother. "You've certainly got her well-trained, haven't you. How long have you known my little brother?" he asked Chloe, leaning on his umbrella casually. She wondered what to reply with- that she hadn't known him for long at all? "Long enough to know what he's like." She decided on, which made Mycroft laugh. "Not long at all then, I'm guessing. I think I could like you. A shame you've thrown your lot in with Sherlock. I'm surprised he hasn't cast you aside yet- he does so love his playthings." He said speculatively, and Chloe felt increasingly out of place in her tracksuit top and jeans. Mycroft noticed her discomfort and smirked. He turned away from her and asked Sherlock "I don't suppose you've found me a new secretary yet?" he said disapprovingly. Sherlock was about to reply with a remark like "I'm not a job centre!" when Chloe butted into the conversation, seeing an interesting opportunity. "I know someone. She's called Angelique, and she lives below Katie and Nathaniel. She has all the qualities you're looking for." She said hurriedly, and Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "I'll look into it. Thank you, Miss…" Sherlock signalled for her not to tell him her real name, but she figured that she needed Mycroft as an ally. "Chloe." She replied, and shook the older man's outstretched hand. "I look forward to seeing more of you, Chloe." Mycroft said, and went back to the company of the smoking gentlemen as if nothing had ever happened.

Eleanor listened to Daniel's story while sipping her coffee, trying not to pass judgement until he had finished. "When my father brought me to Venezia, I tried to run away from him. He had turned to drink as a way of forgetting my mother- he still loved her, in his own way. Violence became part of my life, and I eventually succeeded after my father had fallen asleep after a particularly violent rampage. I begged for enough to live on, and I stole. How could I not? I would have died if not for a man who dropped a few hundred lira into my hand and said 'Have you considered getting a job?' He was a high-ranking member of the mafia, on the lookout for new talent. In return for being a runner between two local gangs, he set me up with an old gondolier called Masimo, and I learned to live on the water like I did on the land. He gave me his boat when he died. I suppose he was the closest thing to a father-figure I have ever had. I practised my English on the tourists so I didn't forget my past, but tourists tend to tip better if they get the full 'Venetian Experience', so it slowly deteriorated as I spoke Italian more often. I was stunned when I saw Rachel step into my gondola- I knew that you two were friends out of school. So I did my usual piece, flirting with the ladies and complimenting the men, but I gave her my number in the hope that she could somehow put me in touch with you. It was a fool's hope, but hope nonetheless. The encounter made me overconfident- I tried to quit my job as a runner for the gangs. I had enough of inter-gang politics, and I strode in there thinking I could conquer the world. However, the gangs wouldn't let me leave that easily. The bosses set the dogs on me, and I believe I would have died if I hadn't have seen Rachel on the water in the boat of my good friend Beppe. She paid for my ticket back to England. I have everything to thank her for, because she brought me to you." The warmth in Daniel's eyes was almost too much for Eleanor to bear, and she turned away abruptly. "That doesn't explain how you saved my life." She asked, and Daniel replied "Rachel and I turned the baby around. I fear it was painful for you, but it had to be done. You and your son would have died if we had not done this..." Eleanor rolled her eyes and said "Not that bit. Rachel was telling me about the other bit... the resuscitation thing."

Daniel grinned roguishly. "The kiss of life? When I saw you on the doorstep, I was almost too shocked to move. But I saw you were in danger, that you were not breathing. So I remembered what my mother taught me, and I gave you the chest compressions and rescue breaths..." Eleanor raised an eyebrow. There was something he was missing out, that she remembered vividly. More vividly than she would like. "But you got a carried away, didn't you?" she said, hoping that he could justify his actions. He just blushed a little and said "Yes, there was one point where I thought you were dead, that I had not done enough to save you. So I...um...kissed you." Eleanor thought that was an understatement. When she had been trying to recall what happened to her that night, only one memory came to the forefront of her mind with disturbing clarity. The pain had stopped, and she had felt like she was floating. Rachel was hysterical and pale, saying "She's got no pulse! There's no pulse!" and Daniel sat back, an expression of abject despair on his face. He had murmured "You can't die. I just came back. You are not going to die on me now!" Then he kissed her. His tears moistened her face as he whispered against her lips "Come back to me, cara mia." It had been better than giving her an electric shock- she remembered the rush of being back in the world, and all of her senses seemed heightened. So did the pain, but Daniel made it go away. For a moment, she could imagine that he was James. He had nearly whooped with joy when she began kissing him back, and she had cried when the ambulance crew broke them apart. He hadn't understood when she cried James' name instead of his. Maybe it was better that way. "I know." She said, and left her half-empty coffee cup on the table as she walked away, trying to ignore the way Daniel made her feel. He simply stared after her.


	30. Chapter 30

Katie texted Nathaniel early one morning. Nathaniel was off at John's stag do, and he had stayed at a Holiday Inn for the night. "Morning, sleepyhead. Up yet?" she wrote, and got a grumpy reply a few minutes later. "Am now! Want to do something 2day?" Katie grinned and wrote "Up 2 u. Thinking fairground thoughts. Up for it?" A new circus had opened in Regents Park, and Katie wanted to investigate. "Sure. Tonite? Candyfloss is on me ;)" With a smile, Katie put her phone away as there was a buzz on the intercom. Angelique's voice came out of the receiver a little garbled. "Someone here to see you. Can't think why they'd want to- it's one of your little friends. I can tell by their awful taste in shoes." Katie sighed- a few more days with Angelique and she would end up committing murder."Send her up." She said in exasperation, and Chloe knocked on the door. "Come in!" Katie called, and Chloe immediately ran in. "I may have done something." She said guiltily, and Katie felt her good mood ebb away. What could it be this time? "I told Mycroft that Angelique would be a good secretary. He's coming right now. We need to convince Angelique that it's a job she wants, so she'll leave you two alone. I'm guessing she'll be given a new place to live, so it'll be great for you and Nathaniel. You'll have the house to yourselves." Katie grinned at the thought of Angelique leaving, but spotted a huge hole in the plan. "What if she says no?" she asked slowly, and Chloe looked pale. "Then she'll think she was set up, and be even worse than ever. Also...Mycroft will kill me." She said quietly. They looked at each other and ran downstairs, shouting "Angelique!"

The girl in question stepped out of her living room looking decidedly displeased at all the noise. "What is the meaning of this? I'm trying to do my hair!" Katie sat Angelique down while Chloe made her a coffee. "We thought you might want to know that a talent spotter is coming to evaluate you today for an exclusive job." Katie said, and Angelique gasped in excitement. "I always knew that I'd be recognised! Tell me, what is the job?" Chloe handed Angelique the cup of coffee and tried to describe the good points of working for Mycroft. "It's very high profile work. You'll be living in a brand new apartment while you are working for this man, and you get to travel a lot. There's almost no work involved- all you need to do is keep track of the man's appointments and travel in his luxury car all day. The rest is just looking pretty- something you do already." Katie made puking noises behind Angelique's back, and Chloe had to resist the urge to laugh. "What are you waiting for? Show him in!" Angelique snapped, looking in the mirror as she hastily re-did her makeup and styled her hair. Chloe ran downstairs to greet Mycroft, who looked out of place in the domestic environment of the house. She whispered "She'll take the job, but she's very...highly-strung. She thinks you're a talent spotter. Just act all haughty- you shouldn't have too much trouble." She practically propelled him up the stairs, where Angelique waited expectantly. "I've been expecting you!" she gushed, and glared at Katie and Chloe until they went somewhere else while the 'meeting' took place. Mycroft came out 20 minutes later looking flushed and breathless, while Angelique winked at the girls as she went past. Katie made a face. "You don't think she tried to..." Chloe nodded in horror as the pair walked out to the car, trying to erase the horrible mental image. "Mycroft is going to have his work cut out with her." Chloe said, and they burst into fits of giggles as Katie realised something with a smile of satisfaction. "I'll never have to see her again!"

Rachel straightened John's collar as he fidgeted grumpily at the door, still a little hung-over from his stag do. "Don't you want to meet my dad?" she grinned, seeing the discomfort on his face. John turned to her with an anguished look and said "What if he thinks I'm too old for you? What if he thinks I'm being irresponsible?" Rachel sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "Dad is the least responsible person I know. Now at least look like you're pleased to see him!" John contorted his face into an expression that made Rachel laugh so hard she nearly fell over. "No, now you look like you have constipation!" Rachel made him look sensible again as she heard the roar of an engine come up the road. She felt nervous- what if her dad didn't like John after all? A vintage motorbike pulled into the lay-by next to Baker Street, and a familiar man got off it. He took off his helmet to reveal sandy hair and a bemused expression. Rachel sighed as she gave her dad a hug. "Aren't you meant to be selling those, not riding them?" she said, gesturing to the motorbike. "It's much more fun this way!" he replied, and looked John up and down thoughtfully. "Mr Hunter." John said respectfully, and they shook hands warmly while Rachel looked on, a proud expression on her face. "Please, call me George." He said, pulling a face. "I hate being called Mr Hunter. It makes me sound like the bad guy from Snow White!" Rachel shoved her dad into the house, rolling her eyes. He was so...immature. She could understand why her mother had left him. George Hunter was 52, going on 5. He owned a motorbike shop in Essex, and had come to do his duty as the best man at their wedding. Her mother had left him when Rachel was five after he had a few issues with responsibility. However, he had been a great dad to her over the years, and she could think of nobody better than him to give her away at the wedding. Greg Lestrade was relieved to only be a guest at the wedding this time. They spent a relaxed day just chatting while going through the plans for the big day. Rachel heard footsteps coming up the stairs and opened the door to discover her brother and his family at the top of the stairs. "Hey, Rach! How's life treating you?" Liam said brightly, giving his sister a hug. His wife, Stacey, gave a shy wave and introduced the children to John while they hid behind their mother's legs. 3 year old Delilah held her mother's hand and messed with one year old Mia's blonde curls. "This place is getting packed! Fancy going down the road for a pint?" George declared cheerfully, and they all piled out of the flat and onto the street below, laughing and chatting to John like they had known him forever.

The fairground was full of couples holding hands and families wandering round with their children. Katie and Nathaniel tried their hand at a few games, and Nathaniel turned out to be unexpectedly expert at the ring-toss. He won Katie a giant cuddly llama, which she carried around with pride while trying not to get any candyfloss on it. They had a go on the rollercoaster and Katie laughed at Nathaniel's pained expression as they went down the steepest section of track- she knew that he wanted to keep up his macho appearance by not screaming. He let out a little squeak at the last second, and defended himself by saying "But it was a very strong, manly squeak!" In fact, Nathaniel was anything but macho. He enjoyed cooking and vacuuming as much as any housewife Katie had ever met. She giggled quietly- he'd rather die than do the ironing, though. An unexpected gust of wind set her map twirling in the breeze, and she ran after it until it stopped at the feet of one of the couples. She looked up to apologise to the couple in question, but one of them spoke first. "Katie? What are you doing here?" Eleanor asked in a shocked voice. Her companion surprised Katie. "Daniel?" she asked, trying to make sense of the situation. He said hastily "You misunderstand. I offered to take Eleanor to this place so that we could talk more. You see, we have met before. Eleanor, you will vouch for this, si?" Katie looked at Eleanor searchingly, and to Daniel's relief, she nodded. "We needed to sort some stuff out. I left Tom with Mrs Hudson." The two couples exchanged pleasantries and went their separate ways, but Katie watched Daniel and Eleanor together. She seemed carefree when she was with him- there was something going on there, Katie decided. Whether either of them knew about it yet was another question, but she saw the way the younger man looked at her friend. She just hoped that he would give her time to adjust to normality again- God knows, Eleanor had been through a lot. Katie asked Nathaniel distractedly "Did you see..." and her husband nodded knowingly. He put his arm around her, and said "It's all in his eyes, isn't it?" They walked on in contemplative silence.


	31. Chapter 31

Sighing heavily, Eleanor shut the door to her room and gave Luna a hug. She was so confused and distraught- who could have known what would happen at the fairground? The familiar smell of her cat's fur comforted her as she went over the evening in her head. Daniel had found her crying into one of the sofa cushions during the afternoon. She had thought she was alone- Chloe was out with Sherlock again, and Rachel and John were out with the family. She was still getting used to Katie and Nathaniel living away. "Why are you crying, cara mia? Is it something I said?" Daniel said, gently wiping the tears away from her eyes. She had carried on sobbing, letting him hold her for a while. He was careful, treating her like she might shatter. Eleanor had opened her mouth to thank him for his concern, but Tom's crying had pierced the air like a knife and she had wearily got up to rock him gently back to sleep. He was having none of it, however, and carried on regardless of Eleanor's attempts to calm him down. She gave up and was about to leave the kitchen until she saw Daniel kneeling by Tom's crib, whispering to him soothingly in Italian. "Calmati, bambino, calmati. Tua madre è stanca e ha bisogno di dormire. Così si fa. Quindi calma." Tom had yawned quietly and went back to sleep with barely a sound. Eleanor had been irritated- how come he could calm down her son better than her? "Ok, thanks. I can take care of my own son." She'd said angrily, and went back to her spot on the sofa, hugging a cushion. "I am not worried about the little boy, I am worried about you. You look like you need some air. Shall we take a walk?" She had reluctantly agreed, and left Tom in the capable hands of Mrs Hudson.

The fairground had been fun, she realised. She had taken the opportunity to really look at how Daniel had changed from a gangly fourteen year old to almost a man. He had let his blonde hair grow a bit longer and it occasionally fell in his eyes, forcing him to brush it away from his face with a free hand. Chloe had been trying to introduce him to hair gel- he looked like a male model when his hair was off his face. She preferred it when it was natural. His face was tanned from hours in the sun and his muscles had become slightly more defined from his work as a gondolier. He seemed more world-weary than when she had spent time with him at school. She wondered if his mother missed him- they hadn't talked in years. His eyes were still that same shade of blue, gentle and kind. His eyes were the only thing that hadn't changed. He made her feel guilty just by looking at her. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because she had blamed him for leaving her all these years, when he had been thinking of her constantly and she had started to forget him. It unnerved her slightly that he had thought about her every day. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought that she saw James. He stood next to one of the marquees, holding up a number on a card. 4. She shook her head, and looked again, but he had disappeared. She dismissed it as a figment of her imagination. A map landed at her feet, and as she bent to pick it up, she ended up staring into Katie's face. God, what must this look like?

She stayed quiet while Daniel charmed his way out of the situation, and agreed with him whenever it was necessary. She turned away with shame written plainly on her face, and they walked on. Daniel stopped her abruptly behind one of the tents and said "Why do you…never mind. It's not important." Eleanor was curious as to what he was going to say, and she stopped him from running off on her. "What is it?" This was the first time she had ever seen Daniel angry. Usually mild-mannered and gregarious, he got by in the world with his self-deprecating sense of humour, not by getting angry. "I come here to find you, and now I'm thinking it is not worth it. You stay cold towards me. Unless…can you tell me- how does this feel?" He ran his arm lightly up Eleanor's and back down again. "Um…I don't know." She said, trying not to shiver from the familiarity of his touch. "What about this?" he asked slowly, and stepped a little closer to her so that their lips were almost touching. "I don't know. You're confusing me." She replied, trying to step back without offending him. She felt claustrophobic and really not in the mood for a serious conversation. Daniel closed the gap between them and murmured "Confused is good. I can work with confused." He leaned over and kissed her tenderly, and she had to admit that he had a point. She didn't feel the electric sensation she once did with James, but there was something between them. Suddenly, there was a loud noise and a muffled thud. Eleanor stepped away from Daniel and said "Must be the start of the fireworks already. They're early…" she frowned. "The display isn't due for half an hour." She noticed Daniel looking down at his chest with an expression of puzzlement on his face. She looked there too, and saw a spreading red stain on the front of his t-shirt. "No." she whispered hoarsely. "This isn't happening." Daniel tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth except a thin trickle of blood and he keeled over onto the grass, his blue eyes turning glassy and sightless. Silent tears streamed down Eleanor's face. She knelt by Daniel's body, knowing without a doubt that he was dead.

Time seemed to stand still as she held his head in her lap, stroking the blonde hair out of his face. "Shame, really. He seemed like a nice lad. But he needed to learn what happens to little boys who play with fire." A familiar voice penetrated the silence, and she didn't need to look up to see who it was. "I thought I saw you earlier, but I dismissed it as a waking nightmare." Eleanor said bitterly, and Jim Moriarty laughed expressionlessly, circling Daniel's corpse like a shark. "Your words sting me to the heart, although you seem to think I don't have one. The boy had to die- he was getting too attached to you. You'll soon find that everything you touch gets burned." He looked curious for a second. "Thomas isn't with you." Eleanor thanked god that he was safe at home with Mrs Hudson. "No. He looks like you." She added, hoping that her James would care enough to remember that little bit of information. "Interesting... anyway, must dash. Things to do, people to kill. If you ever want to get in touch, here's my card." He grinned sarcastically, and produced a piece of paper with a scribbled phone number and the number three on it in bold print. "You've proved you can count- four, three, right? What are you counting down to?" Jim looked interested for a second, realising that she might have worked it out. "You missed out the number five, though!" she added, and the interest faded he shook his head despairingly at her. "For a second there, I thought you might have got it, but no. Disappointing. The five was…sent a while ago. And as for what I'm counting down until- it's a surprise." Kneeling down by the corpse with her for a second, he kissed her roughly, as if he could even take away the last memory she had of Daniel. She spat on the grass when he had finished. He calmly walked off into the distance. Eleanor called the ambulance and waited until it arrived. There was no rush. She hated herself for not being able to save Daniel's life, when had saved hers. Nobody could save Daniel now.


	32. Chapter 32

Rachel and her dad stood in the living room while John supported his future wife and Chloe sat at the table. "So the wedding will go ahead tomorrow as normal?" George asked concernedly. Rachel nodded and tried to stay positive. "Yeah, everything's booked, so I don't see why not." John put an arm around her shoulder and said "I personally can't wait. I think you'll look radiant." Rachel blushed a little. Chloe had been joined by Katie, and they were busy putting the finishing touches on a bouquet of flowers and started attacking each other with the end products. Rachel rolled her eyes and was about to continue when Eleanor came into the living room. An awkward silence fell, until Eleanor broke it by joking "What? Is there something on my face?" Everyone laughed and the tension was broken. Rachel knew that Eleanor was just covering up her grief, but it was better than staying locked in her room for ages. John started his sentence with "All of the girls have got their bridesmaid dresses through…" but he was cut off by Katie, Eleanor and Chloe all jumping up and down and demanding to see them. They hurried off into Rachel's room, where all of the dresses were neatly folded on her bed. Rachel suspected that they wouldn't stay like that for long. They continued to discuss timings for the day while the other girls all tried on their new dresses with mingled cries of delight and astonishment. "Katie, can you help me do this up?" Chloe asked, trying to reach around to zip up the back of the dress. Katie laughed and remembered her wedding day with nostalgic happiness. "It will be great to have you at the wedding this time, Eleanor!" enthused Chloe, remembering the disastrous reception afterwards. "It'll be nice to be involved in what's going on, yeah." Eleanor replied distractedly, also remembering the same moment. Seeing James again had really shaken her, especially when she wasn't sure at some moments whether he was her James or Jim Moriarty. She speculated about the meaning of the countdown, but promptly forgot about it when Katie yelled "Malibu moment!" and they all crowded around the camera in her outstretched hand, shouting "Who are we?" They all pulled faces as the shutter snapped, and they laughed about the photos that they could see on the screen. "Better not try that again…" Chloe laughed, and they all agreed.

Chloe took a break from everyone's company and texted Sherlock, not expecting a reply. 'Want to do something?' Sherlock replied almost instantly with something Chloe didn't expect at all. 'Want to stay in? Actually no, come over here, I'm staying with a friend. S x' He had made his position clear on the use of kisses in messaging. He had said on numerous occasions "What is the point in putting an emotionless little 'x' into texts? It's pointless!" However, he had used one in the text, and he had also suggested staying in. Their film evening must have made an impression on him, Chloe thought. She followed his instructions in the text that arrived immediately afterwards, and found herself at a stylish modern house with a security gate. She used the intercom hesitantly. "Hi…um…Sherlock sent me." There was an argument at the other end that finished with a loud crash and a series of groans. "Sorry!" Sherlock said cheerfully. "He wouldn't let you in. Come on up." The gate swung open on well-oiled hinges and Chloe met Sherlock up at the house. "Hi! This place is nice. Is your friend ok- it sounded like you hit him over the head with the receiver." Sherlock looked impressed and nodded, much to Chloe's dismay. "When I say friend, I mean…not really a friend." Sherlock said slowly, and showed Chloe to the sofa where an epic collection of films lined the shelves opposite her. "Wow." She said, about to choose a DVD, but Sherlock stopped her and said "I thought maybe we could just talk this time. You know, about stuff." Chloe was taken aback at the change in Sherlock since the last time she had seen him. "Why are you acting all…weird? Not bad weird, good weird." She asked, and Sherlock sighed. "John has asked me to be the best man at the wedding tomorrow." Chloe nodded encouragingly, and said "That's great! It proves he still trusts you." Sherlock shook his head ruefully. "So I've got to practice being nice." He pulled a face. "Nice. Nice is boring. Who wants nice?" Chloe laughed and said "I do!" Sherlock kissed her on impulse, and Chloe grinned. It looked like she would have a good afternoon after all…except for the graffiti on the outside wall facing her in the shape of a 2. She frowned. Where had the four and three gone? Never mind. She focused on Sherlock again, and tried to block out all thoughts of the numbers. They couldn't mean anything.

Katie gasped in horror as Sherlock came into the room the next day wearing his purple shirt. "You are not wearing that for the wedding. I will see to it that that you die painfully if you go within a mile of the church wearing the purple shirt of sex." Eleanor and Chloe collapsed into fits of laughter as Sherlock looked perplexed. "Purple shirt of…never mind. What do you suggest that I wear instead?" Eleanor realised that he literally didn't have anything suitable in his wardrobe, and consulted with the girls. "It's time for a trip to Savile Row!" declared Chloe, as the three girls took Sherlock's arms and shoved him out of the door and onto the street. They arrived at the tailor's, and Katie rang the bell for service. A tall man with a carefully maintained moustache came out of the back room and cried "Eleanor, is that you? I haven't seen you for months! Where's darling James? He was in here a few days ago, you know." The others looked at her questioningly and she explained quietly "This is where James gets his suits from." She looked up and smiled at the tailor. "Girls, this is Henri. He is the best tailor in the whole of London…" she said proudly, and whispered as an afterthought "He's also extremely gay." Henri grinned and produced a tape measure from his pocket, seeing Sherlock looking very out of place. "Who is this handsome gentleman?" he asked, sidling closer to Sherlock and holding the tape measure by his head to begin selecting a suit. "He's with me." Chloe explained, edging closer to Sherlock as if to protect him from Henri's attentions. "Why are all the good-looking men always taken?" he muttered good-naturedly, and took out a pad of paper from his back pocket. "I'm thinking one of the new range, maybe a tailcoat?" he mused out loud, sketching ideas with a pencil that he produced from behind his ear. "Whatever you think, Henri." Sherlock said graciously, silently hoping that he wouldn't be leaving the shop with anything pink or sequinned. "I'll be back in a tick!" Henri said, winking at Sherlock before disappearing into the back room again. They could hear muffled curses as something fell over, and Katie whispered "Is he always that…energetic?" Eleanor rolled her eyes and said "Tell me about it. Last time when me and James came in here, he…never mind." Chloe saw the pain in her friend's eyes as she tried to shut out the horrible scene from the fairground. Henri materialised again, this time with a suit in his arms. He tried it against Sherlock and declared "Perfect. You know, sometimes I just fall in love with my own talent. I have to reject myself every so often, just to shake things up a little." As he stepped back with a flourish, they all gasped at the way the classic suit made Sherlock look. His dominant features were almost accentuated by the clean lines of the suit. He looked good. Very good. Chloe resisted the urge to make a joke about James Bond as they left the store, Eleanor staying behind for a little while to explain what happened with her and James to Henri. She thought it was only fair, since he was one of the only people they had met regularly as a couple. Sherlock was still reeling from his encounter with the tailor, and Katie remarked "I think Sherlock here has been scarred for life. He'd better buck his ideas up before this afternoon, or else I'll have to be the best man!" They all laughed as they made their way back to Baker Street to get changed before the big occasion.


	33. Chapter 33

George fidgeted in his suit, muttering darkly as Rachel adjusted his bow tie. "Please go over my job again!" he pleaded, silently wondering why fathers were required to be present at weddings. Rachel reached up and brushed his fair hair out of his eyes while replying "All you do is take me up to the altar and sit down at the empty seat next to Liam, Stacey and Mia. Delilah is being the ringbearer." She held up a hand as George opened his mouth to make a joke about Frodo in the Lord of the Rings. "Can't you just be sensible for one day!" she asked, trying to get her dad to realise the importance of the occasion. She was getting married! She felt dizzy with excitement as she met up with Stacey, who would be styling her hair. "I thought I'd keep it simple, just a half-twist on top of your head with a few strands of hair at the side to soften the look a little. Your hair has grown since last time I saw you- it was too short to put up a while ago!" Stacey had a hairdressing salon back in Essex, and she was really good at her job. She soon got stuck in, making small talk as she started to pin Rachel's hair up. Katie, Chloe and Eleanor all came in looking self-conscious in their new dresses. "You look gorgeous!" Stacey exclaimed as she added the finishing touches to Rachel's hairstyle. Suddenly Rachel was sandwiched in the middle of her three friends, who were all saying how pretty she looked. She looked in the mirror and smiled quietly. She didn't look bad. Katie whispered something to Rachel, looking tearful and proud. "Every girl wants a man that she can go to in her trackies, hair a mess, makeup running down her face, eyes red from crying and the first thing he says to her is 'You're beautiful' and means it. I think you've got that with John, and we're all so happy for you. He'll be blown away. Seriously." Rachel squeezed their hands and got up from the makeup bench, trying not to trip over her new dress. She took a deep breath. "Let's do this." She muttered, and walked into the waiting car with her bridesmaids behind her. Chloe had made firm friends with three year old Delilah, and they played a game of peek-a-boo in the back seat, much to the amusement of the others. Rachel grinned. Everyone got along really well with her family- George had shared embarrassing baby photos of Rachel with Katie, and Eleanor had talked animatedly to Liam about the motorbikes that he helped his dad sell. Sighing contentedly, Rachel sat back in the seat while carefully maintaining her hairstyle. When the car stopped, she would be getting married.

John took Sherlock aside to go over some last-minute rules with his best man. "Number one- don't say anything. Don't argue, just don't say a word. Number two- read the speech that Chloe wrote for you at the reception. I don't need any elderly relatives having heart attacks because you've insulted their husbands' weight. And number three- for god's sake, stop messing with the bow tie! It's meant to look like that." Sherlock took everything on board with a serious expression. He would do his best to make his friend happy, but he could make no promises. Chloe had given him a pep talk before she left with the rest of them. "You'll do fine. Just remember that this is John's day, and he'll be so worried about making it perfect for Rachel." She had kissed him on the forehead and propelled him in John's general direction. "Make me proud!" she yelled, and ran back to the car with a smile. Sherlock stood at the altar with John, who was checking his watch anxiously. John was so nervous about the wedding- almost all the guests had arrived already. He stood stiffly, his medals shining in the stream of light from the stained glass window above him. The wedding march started up, and he couldn't look. Would Rachel even be there? Sherlock murmured in his ear "She's here. John, look." He shook his head mutely. He was too scared to tempt fate. "Look, damn you! She looks beautiful." Sherlock hissed quietly, and turned John to face the oncoming procession. Delilah took up the rear of the line with the cushion containing the rings, her blonde curls bouncing as she nearly jogged to catch up with the rest of them. Katie, Chloe and Eleanor looked pretty in their identical thyme green bridesmaid dresses, and they held the train of Rachel's dress delicately with both hands while smiling at guests they recognised. Finally, he had nowhere else to look, and his eyes settled on Rachel. All of his doubts evaporated- she looked radiant. Her hair was styled elegantly with flowers that matched the ones in baskets at the end of the pews, and her dress was simple yet flawless. George walked beside her, and with a knowing look at John, whispered "You take care of my girl, Dr Watson. I'm counting on you." John felt the urge to salute the older man as he took his seat next to his family, who all smiled encouragingly. The vicar began by introducing the service, and Rachel murmured "Are you ok? Did I need to anything more?" John looked at her with undisguised adoration in his eyes and simply said "All I need is right here in front of me." The vicar got to the vows, and this was where they were doing something a little different to Katie and Nathaniel's wedding. "Do you, John Hamish Watson, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" John rolled his eyes at his middle name. Whatever had possessed his parents to give him the middle name Hamish? "I, John…Hamish Watson, take you, Rachel Alice Hunter, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live." He said sincerely, and the vicar went on "Do you, Rachel Alice Hunter, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Rachel caught John's eye before answering, silently letting him know that all the things he most hated about himself were what she most loved about him. His careworn face, his sheer bravery, his stubborn loyalty…she said her vow with a sparkle in her eye at the promise of their new life together. "I, Rachel Alice Hunter, take you, John Hamish Watson, to be my husband, loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know. I look forward to the chance for us to grow together, getting to know the man you will become, and falling in love a little more every day. I promise to love and cherish you through whatever life may bring us." The vicar's voice shook a little from the tears that were streaming down his face. "You may kiss!" he said tearfully, discreetly fishing out a tissue from the sleeve of his vestments and wiping his eyes as Rachel and John kissed, prompting applause from all their guests. There wasn't a dry eye in the house as the happy couple made their way out of the church and into the waiting car, waving enthusiastically at all the guests as they went past.

Eleanor stood with Chloe and waved at the wedding car as it drove away to the hotel where the reception would be held. She grinned- John would have his work cut out with Rachel. She felt a pang of regret that she would probably never marry- she had spoilt the only chance she had ever got at happiness. She glanced across the road, and froze. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear." She murmured. Jim Moriarty was standing in a bus station on the opposite side of the pavement to the guests, and he shrugged regretfully at Eleanor as if asking why he hadn't been invited. It brought to mind the story of Sleeping Beauty- when the villain didn't receive an invitation, she cursed the king and queen's child. Eleanor shuddered and hoped that wasn't prophetic. She pointed to the bus stop and asked Chloe shakily "Can you see him too?" Chloe nodded in mute horror, and Jim stepped onto the bus that had pulled into the station as they had both been working out whether they were hallucinating or not. As it pulled away, Eleanor looked at the number on the front of the bus. It was the number 111. Trying to reassure Chloe that it was nothing but a visit to try and unnerve them, they both hailed a taxi to get to the hotel. Eleanor promised herself that the brief encounter wouldn't spoil the wedding- Jim Moriarty wouldn't ruin someone else's wedding too.


	34. Chapter 34

The hotel was packed full of guests and well-wishers. Patients from John's past, people from cases with Sherlock, and distant relatives alike all chatted together in the relaxed environment of the ballroom. Rachel had got changed out of her wedding gown and into a strapless mermaid-silhouette gown, and John stayed in his dinner jacket but took off the medals. He felt self-conscious wearing them- it seemed pretentious to show them off. Katie, Eleanor and Chloe had all had an input on the playlist for the night's dances. Katie was in charge of the music while everyone was eating- quiet pieces from ThePianoGuys album like 'Moonlight' and 'Cello Song'. Chloe was in charge of the faster dance music- she mixed up mainstream tracks like the Macarena with songs like 'Count the Shadows' by Chameleon Circuit. Eleanor had requested to be put in charge of the slower songs, and she chose 'So Close' by Jon McLoughlin and 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri. Sherlock had revealed a hidden talent for dancing, and he had politely danced with each of the girls before spending the rest of the evening with Chloe. Nathaniel and Katie partied for most of the night until they got so tired that they collapsed in a heap on one of the sofas at the edge of the room. Eleanor had taken Tom back from Mrs Hudson, who had held him during the service, and she sat quietly in the corner with him while refusing dances from some of John's younger male relations. She didn't want to risk anyone else getting hurt- she didn't know what James drew the line at in terms of closeness. She finally relented when Katie and Chloe left their men and convinced her to leave Tom for a second while all three of them danced insanely to Chameleon Circuit's 'Exterminate Regenerate'.

Feeling slightly happier, Eleanor danced with Delilah for a few songs until a boy of about seven asked shyly "Could I have the honour of this dance?" Eleanor laughed- he was so cute! She put a finger on her lips and whispered "Don't tell Delilah, otherwise she'll get jealous." They clowned around for a bit, attracting some of the younger children who were getting bored as the music turned into slower songs for the couples. Suddenly, Eleanor was popular. She introduced her new munchkin army to Tom and told them all a ridiculous story about a giant. Katie laughed- it seemed that Eleanor had found herself a full-time job. Rachel looked up from John's arms to see rapt little faces staring up at her friend in admiration as she acted out the story with a grin on her face. "She'll be an excellent mum to Tom." She murmured to John, who nodded in agreement. "It's a shame about his father. I hope she finds someone better." Rachel felt cold as she remembered Eleanor's face as she told them how Daniel died. "Not while Moriarty is still alive. He'll kill anyone who tries." She said quietly. John looked worried at his new wife's sudden change in mood. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be happy, Mrs Watson?" he teased, and Rachel was filled with a sense of warmth as she got used to her new name. "It sounds so sophisticated!" she exclaimed with glee. "Really? I'm glad you think so." John replied, holding Rachel close as the last song came on.

They slowly circled around the dancefloor as Katie and Nathaniel whizzed past in each other's arms and waved cheekily before going off in another direction. In the corner of the room, Sherlock and Chloe swayed on the spot, kissing most inappropriately for a place where there were children present. Everyone stopped when Eleanor gently tapped on a glass with a teaspoon to get everyone's attention. "I believe the best man has a speech prepared." She said, grinning at Sherlock. Chloe gave him a printed card to read off as he strode onto the stage and Eleanor stepped down to give him some space. He stared out at the sea of faces and decided in an instant what he would do. John watched him set aside the card with a growing sense of dread. What was he doing? Sherlock cleared his throat and began. "John, you may be wondering why I am not reading off the card that Chloe prepared for me. The answer is that I feel that I need to speak in my own words, just to tell everyone a bit about you. No offense to Chloe, of course- I'm sure her speech would have been more poetic than anything I could ever come up with." He smiled at John reassuringly and addressed the waiting guests. "Dr John Watson is the most honourable man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He has saved my life more than once, and for that I am grateful. I wish him all the happiness in the world in his marriage to Rachel, who completes him. My only regret is that I will probably be seeing less of my friend, whose trust I once abused. I hope that he can forgive me for that, and I give you all my word that I will be there if he ever needs me again." Their eyes met, and John nodded once in gratitude. Rachel clung to her husband's arm, overjoyed that Sherlock had expressed such emotion in front of strangers. "Chloe must be working wonders!" she thought with a fond smile at Sherlock, who had come off the stage and straight into Chloe's arms. The guests were a bit bemused by the sentiment in the speech- the only ones who really understood apart from the girls and Nathaniel were Greg Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, who came up to congratulate Sherlock on his brief speech. "Short and sweet- nice going, Sherlock. If you'd have gone on any longer, I would have had to shoot you." Greg said, clapping the detective on the back so hard that he nearly dropped the glass of champagne that Chloe had just fetched for him. Mrs Hudson gushed "That was beautiful! Really heartfelt- I'm surprised at you, Sherlock, you old softie!" She gave him a hug, much to the amusement of everyone around them. Chloe excused herself to go to the bathroom, and the rest of the guests stood and chatted for the remaining ten minutes of the reception.

Chloe unlocked the door to the toilet cubicle and washed her hands at the polished bronze sink while humming 'Angels' by Robbie Williams. She glanced at the clock on the wall, realising that it would be midnight in a few seconds. She waited expectantly for the chime, but none came. Weird. The clock was working- but it was eerily silent. She took it off the wall and inspected the back of it, thinking that maybe she could fix it. It was a beautiful old thing: it had delicate golden hands and a beautiful picture on the clock face. She took the back off gently, and with a gasp, she nearly dropped the whole thing on the tiled floor as she spotted a piece of paper wedged in the mechanism. She picked the little note up gingerly, and turned it around to see a number that she had been expecting for quite a while. Zero. With a hiss, a pale green gas started spurting from the centre of the clock and she began to feel drowsy. She tried shaking herself awake, knowing that nothing good would come if she went to sleep now. But she was so...tired. With a sigh, she collapsed on the floor of the bathroom, the piece of paper clutched in her hand. Just a few minutes of sleep couldn't hurt, surely. A shadowy figure appeared through the haze of gas in the room. "Hello, Chloe." It said mockingly, and Chloe said faintly "This is the girl's bathroom." A cruel laugh emanated from the figure, who stood still in the middle of the floor, watching her. The figure knelt down beside her, and she felt a sharp pain in her arm. Everything went black, and Chloe's last waking thought was of Sherlock.


	35. Chapter 35

Katie came back from her brief search for Chloe with a puzzled expression. "She must be with Sherlock." She said to Eleanor, who shrugged while trying not to disturb the sleeping Tom in her arms. Sherlock had left almost immediately after his speech, too embarrassed to continue being congratulated by various party guests. Katie sighed and went home with Nathaniel, shouting back to Eleanor as they left "You really must come to see the house sometime. It's so much nicer without Angelique!" Eleanor grinned- she had heard the story from Chloe. She wondered if Angelique liked her new job- Mycroft certainly liked having her around. She was a little disappointed that she, Rachel and Katie hadn't met Mycroft yet- but he'd probably had them all under surveillance since they moved in. Especially Eleanor, with her 'criminal connections'. She wondered absently what James was doing now. She smoothed Tom's wispy hair away from his face. It had grown darker as he grew- it was now the same jet-black as his father's. Rachel and John came up to her, hand in hand. "We're just leaving. Do you want a lift back to Baker Street?" John asked kindly, seeing that she was a bit down. Eleanor smiled and said "As long as you don't mind Tom." Rachel asked to hold him as they got into the wedding car and drove off to Baker Street. Tom was remarkably tolerant of almost everything- he'd got through his crying stage and stayed almost unnaturally quiet sometimes. However, he loved 'Auntie' Rachel to bits, and promptly fell asleep in her arms. John laughed quietly, secretly wondering what sort of a mum his new wife would be. He'd like to find out...

Baker Street seemed cold without many of its inhabitants. Katie and Nathaniel had moved out, Chloe was presumably with Sherlock...and Daniel would never be coming back. There had been no funeral, and none of them had ever seen his body again. Sherlock ensured that Mycroft intervened to give him a decent burial somewhere by a river- it seemed the next best thing to the canals of Venice that he loved. That left Eleanor, John, Rachel and Tom alone in the living room, playing board games to pass the time. John was excellent at making up words in Scrabble, while Rachel enjoyed dominating the property market in Monopoly and Eleanor used her impenetrable poker face to win almost every game of cards. "It's a good thing I'm not a gambling man, otherwise I would have lost a heck of a lot of money tonight!" John muttered good-naturedly, and Eleanor gave an evil laugh like an old-fashioned villain. "I am the champion of the card table!" she said gleefully, pretending to twirl her fake moustache as she took another armful of poker chips. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and there was still no sign of Chloe. "I wonder if she's...you know, with Sherlock. At his flat, I mean." Rachel mused thoughtfully. "Sherlock? You've got to be kidding. He'd never..." John scoffed, trailing off as he realised that Chloe could in fact be staying the night with his friend. "Well, that's a disturbing thought!" Eleanor said cheerfully, and grinned as she said "I'm afraid I win again. It's a straight flush." John rolled his eyes as he put down his cards and gave up even more of his plastic chips. He smiled to himself- this wasn't how he'd imagined himself spending his wedding night.

Sherlock had left the party when people began congratulating him. He didn't understand why that was necessary- he had simply spoken what was on his mind. Chloe had stayed with the others- he would probably see her later. The thought filled him with excitement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John and Rachel step into the wedding car followed by Eleanor and Tom. The sight of the child unnerved Sherlock- he was so eerily similar to his father that Sherlock did a double-take every time he saw him. Those eyes...he shook his head and wondered why Chloe wasn't with them. Maybe she had gone home already? He hurried back to one of his many safehouses, eager to see her again. However, the lights were off when he unlocked the door, and the heating was off. He turned up his collar against the cold. He tried to squash his disappointment that he wouldn't see her tonight- he was going to ask her an important question. He had been thinking for a while, and it seemed that the logical solution to the overcrowding at Baker Street was to allow Chloe to move in with him. Temporarily, of course. He would give her a room of her own, unless of course she wanted to share. A weird feeling overcame him at the thought of being that close to Chloe. "Hm. Interesting..." he noted, changing into his pyjamas and stretching like a cat. The suit certainly looked posh, but it itched like hell. He put on his dressing gown and sat in an armchair that he had liberated from Baker Street when he left. It helped him to think. His appointment at the Shard loomed- it was only a week away. He sighed. If he died, the world would lose one of its most valuable assets. Jim Moriarty hadn't been in contact, apart from the message of Daniel's death. However, that was wholly aimed at one of the girls. The one with the red streak in her hair. He frowned as he tried to remember her name. Ella? Elena? Eleanor, that was it. Sherlock almost felt sorry for her until he remembered that it was probably her fault to begin with. Jim could be incredibly persuasive, but God only knows how he managed to seduce someone who was so loyal to her friends. He wondered what it would be like for her, seeing Tom every day as a reminder of her past misdeeds. Sherlock hoped that if he succeeded in killing Jim at the Shard, her life would improve in the knowledge that she was free to do what she wanted with her life. The thought of Jim Moriarty being dead for good brought a small smile to his face.


	36. Chapter 36

John woke up on the sofa with Rachel resting on his shoulder and snoring quietly while Silva slept beside her. He grinned, trying to extricate himself without waking her. He used her iPhone to film a quick video of it, smiling at the thought of her reaction when she found the footage. He tiptoed around the flat and nearly tripped over Eleanor, who was curled up by Tom's cot with Luna. She looked tired, he thought, seeing the dark circles under her eyes. Tom greeted him with a cute laugh, and to John's amazement, asked falteringly "Where mummy?" John took a step back and called to Rachel, hoping that she could explain this. She came into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "This had better be good." She warned John as she gave him a good-morning kiss on the cheek. Tom looked up at them both with uncanny intelligence in his eyes, and repeated "Where mummy?" Rachel gasped and said "That's impossible. Babies say their first proper words at 6 to 8 months, not 6 to 8 weeks!" Tom almost looked exasperated that they didn't understand. He tried something different, saying "Want mummy." Rachel was pretty freaked- he was way ahead of where he should be. "I'll wake mummy up, Tom. She's sleepy at the moment." She said, knowing that Tom could probably understand everything that she was saying. John made himself a cup of tea, blinking as if he was in a dream. Rachel gently shook Eleanor awake, dislodging Luna from her arms. Luna hissed half-heartedly and went to see Tom, who murmured "Kitty." Luna jumped into his cot and he laughed delightedly. Rachel hoped that Luna didn't mind having her tail pulled. Eleanor sat up with a groan, and asked groggily "What is it? You don't usually bother waking me up for anything worse than a fire!" Rachel smiled a little queasily and gestured to where Tom lay, stroking Luna gently with his tiny hands. "Tom wants you." She said, and Eleanor grinned. Usually he kicked up a fuss when she wasn't there. "Sorry if he cried and woke you two up. I could see you were having some quality time together." She made kissing noises, and Rachel hit her lightly on the back of the head. She said quietly "No, Tom was asking for you." Eleanor assumed she meant he was just making noises, and stood up to check on him. "He was literally asking for you!" Rachel warned her. Eleanor scoffed, saying "That's impossible! He won't learn to speak for a…" Tom stood up at the bars of the cot when he saw his mum, and clearly and distinctly said "Love you, mummy."

She took a step back, hardly believing her ears. She murmured "Oh my god. How is that even possible?" Tom looked puzzled as to why he wasn't getting a hug, and repeated "Love you!" Horror and pride fought for control in Eleanor's mind, but pride for her son won out after a few seconds. "Who's a clever boy! Mummy loves you too, Tom." She scooped him up into her arms with a laugh while spinning him around. Tom laughed too, and Eleanor set him back down in the cot and he fell asleep again, confident that his mum was nearby. She went to sit with Rachel and John at the kitchen table, and John said quietly "I suppose that's what comes from being half genius." Rachel smacked his arm, frowning at him. How could he be so insensitive? She said instead "He takes after James, doesn't he?" Eleanor nodded distractedly, looking at Tom from the corner of her eye. John said "I suppose that every aspect of his development will be accelerated. He's incredibly intelligent for his age- if he can talk then he'll probably be able to read in a few months. There are no limits to what he might be capable of." John looked steadily at Eleanor. "It's incredibly important that you teach him what is right and wrong, or he might use his intelligence to harm other people." Eleanor felt defensive- Tom would never do that. She would make sure of it! She changed the subject quickly. "So, are you two thinking about children?" she asked teasingly, and Rachel put her arm around John and took the question seriously. "Maybe, in a while. We're in no hurry." She said, looking up at John adoringly. Eleanor opened her mouth to speak but felt horrible- she had nearly bitten her friend's head off about the 'hurry' comment. It wasn't her fault that she and James had…well, it was. But she wasn't to know what the consequences would be. She looked at Tom again, who slept peacefully in the kitchen with Luna curled at his side. He would be alright. He would have to be.

Katie and Nathaniel came over for a coffee a few hours later, and they were suitably impressed and taken aback in equal measure when they heard Tom speak. Nathaniel tried teaching him some new words, which Tom picked up quickly and used correctly. Soon he was saying whole sentences. He saw Katie going past and asked politely "Auntie Katty, please hug?" Katie loved her new nickname, and gave Tom a hug as he had requested. "What do you say?" she said afterwards, not expecting him to know the answer. "Thank you, Auntie Katty!" he said after a pause for thought. Katie tried not to freak out. This was beyond natural. She walked down the street with Nathaniel when they had finished their coffee and asked hesitantly "Do you think Tom is…you know. A bit. Um. Weird?" Nathaniel tried not to pass judgement on Eleanor's son, but he knew that this was all completely unheard of before. "I'd have to say yes. I just hope that Eleanor can keep him on the straight and narrow, or we'll have serious problems when he gets older." Katie squeezed his hand reassuringly and said "I trust Eleanor. But do you think that Moriarty did something to her? You know, when she was pregnant. Maybe he fed her something like a pill that has made Tom super-intelligent?" Nathaniel had wondered that himself, and thought that it was beyond even Moriarty's heartlessness to do that to a child. "No. I think it's just hereditary." He said, but he was unsure. He didn't know what lengths Moriarty would go to for his son to follow in his footsteps.

Rachel sighed as she cleared up the coffee cups that had been left on the table. She missed Chloe's sunny influence around the flat- she was obviously having a great time with Sherlock. As she put the dirty cups in the sink, Sherlock strode up the stairs and said "Where's Chloe?" John stuck his head out from behind the newspaper. "She's with you, isn't she?" Sherlock paced impatiently up and down in the kitchen, ignoring Tom completely. "She wasn't with me last night. Where did you last see her?" Eleanor came out of the living room and saw Sherlock, glaring at him behind his back as she picked up Tom. "She went to the bathroom and then we assumed she'd gone home with you." Rachel said, and Sherlock slapped his forehead. "Of course! Where better than a public place to take her? Oh, Jim Moriarty, you are a genius!" Everyone looked at him with blank expressions until he explained more slowly "Moriarty wants me to feel the pain that he felt when Ella left him. So he took Chloe at the reception, and he's going to bring her to the Shard tonight." He was still met with blank looks from Rachel and John, but Eleanor glared and said "It's Eleanor, not Ella." Sherlock waved her protest away dismissively and continued. "Jim Moriarty called me six months ago to invite me to a meeting at the top floor of the Shard. He said he wanted to end it all." Sherlock glanced at Eleanor out of the corner of his eye, who was dumbstruck. "We need to go there now!" said John, fetching his coat, but Sherlock insisted "No. Nobody is coming with me. I have to do this alone." John rolled his eyes and said "Now is not the time to be the bloody hero, Sherlock. We're coming too." Rachel grabbed her mobile and left a message with Katie and Nathaniel, saying "Don't worry about us. We're going to the top of the Shard. Don't follow- if you get caught you could be arrested." Eleanor held Tom tightly and said in a strained voice "I'm coming." Rachel turned back and looked into her friend's eyes. "You can't, and you know that." She walked out of the door with Sherlock and John, leaving Eleanor standing alone with Tom. "I'll be damned you let them kill James." Eleanor muttered to herself, and wrapped Tom up in a coat. "We're taking a trip to the Shard."


	37. Chapter 37

Jim Moriarty stood on the top floor of the Shard, a dead construction worker at his feet. He apologised to the corpse, saying cheerfully "Sorry! Couldn't let you tell on me, you know." With a grim smile, he heaved the man's body to the edge of the roof and shoved it off with the toe of his shoe. He watched it fall and turned away before it hit the ground. Soon it would all be worth it. Chloe yelled from her bindings "You'll never get away with this! You're sick and twisted." He rolled his eyes- he should have brought a gag. He saw the service lift climb the side of the building, and knew that it contained Sherlock and his little friends. He wondered for a second if Eleanor would be there, but muttered to himself "Stop it. She left you, she betrayed you. Don't let her stay your hand." The wind picked up and tousled his jet-black hair as the service lift grew ever closer. He patted his inside pocket thoughtfully. The 9mm Browning L9A1 was reassuringly heavy. He would kill Sherlock Holmes, and then he would find his son. The lift finally pulled to a stop at the top of the building, and three of them got out. John was there- how pathetic. And he had even brought his new wife with him. Jim sighed regretfully. Here he was, trying to minimise the loss of life, and more of them jump into the firing line. Oh well. He grinned at Sherlock and shouted "How nice of you to turn up!" He gestured to Chloe, who was struggling with the expertly tied knots at her wrists and ankles. Sherlock walked closer to Jim and their eyes met. The hate in Sherlock's surprised him. "Who do you want me to shoot first?" he asked Sherlock, and he noticed that John was putting his wife behind him to protect her. How touching. There was a time when he would have done that for Eleanor…he shook his head and concentrated on the anger that seethed beneath his calm exterior. "Your girlfriend? John's wife? Or your sidekick himself?" he smiled, producing the gun from his pocket. Sherlock stepped in front of him and produced an identical pistol. "Snap." He said grimly, and pointed it at Jim's head. Jim just tutted despairingly and suggested "I tell you what, why don't we do this the old-fashioned way? Man-to-man, as it were." Sherlock looked as if he relished the opportunity, and they ran headlong into each other, grappling and punching while John, Chloe and Rachel looked on in horror. Rachel spotted the Browning that Sherlock had thrown aside and was about to take it, but John held her back. "You could hit Sherlock or Chloe." He murmured, and she watched the two men fighting so close to the edge of the roof. Rachel felt so helpless, but there was nothing anyone could do.

Eleanor looked up at the top of the huge building. It looked like the fin of a shark, making the cityscape seem miniscule in comparison. She swallowed as she saw the comparatively tiny lifts sitting at its base. Looking at Tom for strength, she gulped and made her way to them, hoping that the night guard was in a different part of the complex. The ascent was painfully slow, and although the view was amazing, she couldn't look down. She reminded herself why she was doing this, why she had to keep on going. She whispered to Tom "You're going to see your daddy." He smiled angelically at her, and she smiled back, trying to disguise her fear. The lift drew to a halt at the top of the building, and she couldn't believe it when she saw Sherlock and Jim fighting it out so close to the edge. She ran up to John and Rachel and cried "Why don't you do something?" Without waiting for a reply, she shouted to the two distant figures. It was clear that Jim was winning- Sherlock had a broken nose and a split lip, and he was losing strength. "James! James, stop!" Eleanor screamed, and they both paused mid-punch. "It's Tom, look, James! It's your son!" she pleaded, and Jim Moriarty looked confused and scared. "You left me." He accused, and Eleanor smiled through her tears. He needed to understand. "I felt that Tom was in danger. You would do the same." She said, and his eyes settled on his son. The anger seeped out of him as he looked at Tom for the first time, and he lowered his fist slowly. "Thomas Alexander Moriarty." He whispered in amazement, stepping away from Sherlock and towards Eleanor. Tom laughed as if he recognised his name and replied "Daddy." Unbeknownst to everyone, Sherlock had been edging his way towards Jim as the reunion took place. The unexpected words that Tom had spoken affected Jim so much that he was taken completely by surprise when Sherlock grabbed him from behind and flung him off the edge of the building and five floors down to the scaffolding below.

Time stood still. Rachel hid her face in John's shoulder while he shook his head grimly at Sherlock, who was covering his bleeding nose with a tissue. Sherlock strode over to Chloe and untied her. Chloe was looking shocked at how carelessly Sherlock had just killed a man, even if it was to save her. Eleanor pushed past all of them to get the lift down to the floor where Jim Moriarty had fallen. She hugged Tom closely, sobbing as she found where his father's limp body lay. Blood congealed from a head wound the size of a 50 pence piece, and she knelt by him quietly. He must be dead. Tom whimpered, unsettled by his mother's heaving sobs. She called the air ambulance, vainly hoping that he would be ok if he just went to hospital. The whirr of rotor blades appeared after ten minutes of anxious waiting, and she held her lover's head in her lap while murmuring to Tom as they took off the hospital. Rachel and John saw the helicopter leave, and they went down in the lift to join Eleanor at the hospital. Only Chloe and Sherlock were left. Chloe whispered hoarsely "Thank you." Sherlock turned to look at her, and realised how much he had missed her presence in his life. He knew that he would have killed many more men if it meant that Chloe would stay by his side. He offered his hand, and she took it uncertainly. Sherlock needed to ask her the question he had been meaning to ask since he met her. However, the windswept top of the building was hardly the place to do it. He said tenderly "Shall we go back to my place?" and Chloe nodded mutely, still partially in shock from what she had been through. She knew part of her would never be able to look at Sherlock in the same way again, but she was overwhelmed at the many lengths he would go to save her.


End file.
